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SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL 

OR 

GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 

V 

A  Retrospect  of  the  Past  Fifty  Years. 

SKETCHES  OF  NOTED  PERSONS  MET  WITH  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 

Anecdotes  of  various  Authors,  Musicians,  Journalists, 
Actors,  Artisans,  Merchants,  Lawyers, 
Military  Men,  &c.  &c. 

Met  with  in  Baltimore,  Washington,  Richmond,  and  other  Southern  Cities. 

ALSO  THE   HISTOBIGAL  POEM  OP 

DE  SOTO,  OR  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA, 
AND  MINOR  POEMS. 

BY 

John  EC.  Hewitt, 

"And  scenes  long  past,  of  joy  and  pain, 
Game  wildering  o'er  his  aged  brain." 

—Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 


BALTIMORE: 

TURNBULL  BROTHERS. 
1877. 


IKNES  &  COMPANT, 

Frinten* 


TO  THE  REMAINING  FEW, 
THESE  IMPERFECT  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE  PAST 
ARE  CORDIALLY  DEDICATED  BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

The  writer  of  these  recollections  is  now  treading  the 
barren  path  of  life  winding  its  way  beyond  the  limits 
allowed  to  man  by  the  Holy  Book  —  threescore  and 
ten  being  the  span  of  years  allotted  us.  Though  born 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  still  he  has  always  con- 
sidered Baltimore  his  home,  for  within  her  limits  he 
commenced  his  career  of  life.  Many  changes  have 
taken  place  since  he  first  began  his  professional  career, 
with  a  heart  filled  with  hope  and  a  laudable  ambition 
to  make  his  mark.  Many  of  the  friends  of  his  youth 
have  sought  the  dreamless  slumber  of  the  tomb;  many 
bend  under  the  weight  of  years,  and,  as  they  smooth 
their  white  locks,  look  calmly  forward  to  the  settling 
up  of  all  earthly  accounts. 

They  are  passing  away,  for  decay  is  stamped  upon 
the  features  of  the  most  beautiful  of  other  days,  and, 
one  by  one,  they  leave  us  to  make  room  for  other 
travellers  on  the  same  highway.  In  a  few  short  years 
those  who  were  the  children  of  our  maturity,  and  made 
us  rejoice  in  their  innocent  merriment,  have  grown  up 
and  become  themselves  mature.  The  laughing  school- 
girl has  become  a  staid  matron,  and  desires  no  greater 
happiness  than  that  which  lights  the  domestic  hearth. 
The  wayward  boy  has  become  the  dignified  father,  and, 


6 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


bent  on  speculation,  scarcely  troubles  himself  about 
those  silent  monitors,  gray  hairs,  which,  through  the 
workings  of  care  and  anxiety,  are  beginning  to  show 
themselves. 

These  are  melancholy  reflections,  and  melancholy  is 
not  one  of  the  ingredients  of  the  writer's  nature ; 
though  there  are  times  when  the  buoyant  spirit,  like 
the  waves  of  the  ocean,  will  settle  down  to  the  calm 
and  even  pleasant  quiescence  of  melancholy.  Though  we 
are  passing  away,  yet  the  city  of  our  pride  has  been 
swelling  in  magnitude  and  improving  in  beauty.  She 
has  passed  her  ancient  limits.  Where  the  venerable 
oaks  of  the  forest  stretched  their  giant  branches,  and 
sheltered  the  grazing  cattle  beneath  their  ample  foliage, 
stand  the  palaces  of  the  wealthy,  who,  through  industry 
and  enterprise,  have  thriven  and  prospered  with  the 
city.  To  the  fixed  resident,  these  great  changes  are 
not  so  perceptible  as  to  one  who  has  been  absent  for 
years.  Memory  pains  when  it  receives  new  impres- 
sions \  and,  though  these  evidences  of  prosperity  may 
prove  cheering  to  the  speculator  and  business  man,  yet 
to  the  solitary  wanderer  they  bring  with  them  the  sad 
thought  of  his  own  evanescence. 

I  presume  there  are  still  some  people  living  who 
can  remember  our  goodly  city  fifty  years  ago.  If  there 
are  not,  I  am  "the  last  man,"  and  stand,  like  one 
alone,  mourning  over  the  recollections  of  the  past. 
But  there  are  many,  for  we  meet  them  in  our  daily 
walks.  It  is  true,  the  hand  of  time  has  pressed  heavily 
on  them,  and  the  frosts  of  many  winters  have  whitened 
their  locks ;  yet  they  live,  the  breathing  chronicles  of 
the  past.  I  greet  these  remaining  few,  and  speak  to 
them  of  days  past  and  gone,  when  the  hot  blood  of 
youth  ran  riot  in  our  veins^  and  we  gazed  with  pride  on 
the  growing  strength  of  Baltimore. 

Let  me  carry  the  reader  back  to  the  period  when, 
where  now  tower  the  magnificent  dwellings  of  the 
wealthy,  the  majestic  oaks  of  "  Howard's  Park  "  bowed 
to  the  strong  winds  of  the  storm,  and  the  grand  monu- 
ment, erected  to  the  memory  of  the  illustrious  Wash- 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


7 


ington,  arose  proudly  above  the  crests  of  those  mighty 
forest-sentinels.  The  noble  shaft  still  stands;  but 
where  are  the  oaks  that  have  bowed  their  heads  as  its 
shadow  stretched  out  opposite  to  the  rising  and  setting 
sun?  Levelled  with  the  earth!  The  march  of  im- 
provement has  swept  the  works  of  nature  before  it ; 
the  axe  has  prostrated  the  trees,  and  the  pick  and 
spade  have  levelled  the  hills.  Old  "shanties"  have 
given  place  to  magnificent  mansions,  and  ancient  "  cow- 
paths  "  have  become  populous  streets  and  avenues. 
The  commerce  of  the  city  was  then  mostly  confined  to 
the  coast  trade,  and  steamboats  scarcely  ever  ventured 
beyond  the  mouth  of  the  Chesapeake  bay.  The  slow 
coach  bore  its  burden  of  passengers  to  cities  and  towns 
in  the  interior,  and  the  dim  street-lamps — burning  wicks 
and  whale  oil — '^made  darkness  visible.'*  It  was  re- 
markable that  the  more  lamps  the  city  fathers  caused 
to  be  established,  the  more  the  streets  approximated 
total  darkness. 

Still,  Baltimore  was  a  prosperous  city.  She  had  her 
nabobs  and  her  enterprising  merchants.  Her  banks 
were  in  good  credit,  and  her  institutions  bore  an  excel- 
lent repute.  Year  after  year  her  trade  and  commerce 
expanded,  and  she  swelled  on  until  she  became  the 
third  city  in  the  Union.  At  several  periods  the  ele- 
ments of  rowdyism,  from  which  no  large  communities 
are  free,  were  nursed  on  her  bosom,  and  came  near 
destroying  that  fair  fame  for  which  she  had  so  earnestly 
labored ;  but  the  reproach  soon  wore  away,  and  she 
now  stands  before  the  world  free  of  tarnish. 

Let  us  change  the  picture.  A  new  era  has  opened  ; 
a  new  generation  has  taken  the  place  of  the  "old  fogies  " 
of  former  times;  new  notions  have  crept  into  our  social 
system,  and  we  are  not  the  people  we  were  thirty  or 
forty  years  ago.  Competition  has  awakened  the  sleep- 
ing energies  of  man,  and  to  be  behind  our  sister  cities 
was  considered  an  abandonment  of  the  race.  With  the 
new-fangled  notions  of  the  times  came  the  spirit  of 
enterprise  ;  and  with  enterprise,  failure  is  disgrace.  The 
unhappy  war  between  the  North  and  South  kept  Balti- 


8 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


more  stationary,  and  five  years  became  a  blank  in  ber 
existence ;  but  now,  tbe  clouds  tbat  sbadowed  ber  have 
passed  away,  and,  as  tbe  mild  sunshine  of  peace  diffuses 
itself  over  tbe  land,  there  is  hope  tbat  she  will  move  on 
and  gather  in  tbe  wealth  tbat  must  pour  in  through  tbe 
channels  of  commerce.  Her  rapidly  increasing  popula- 
tion is  an  evidence  of  ber  prosperity.  Capitalists,  seeing 
the  necessity  of  extending  our  means  of  communication 
directly  with  Europe  and  tbe  Southern  ports,  in  order 
that  our  merchants  might  fill  orders  that  were  crowding 
in  upon  them  from  the  interior,  established  direct  lines 
of  steamships,  foreign  and  coastwise,  in  order  that  the 
fabrics  or  products  of  distant  lands  might  be  brought  to 
a  mart  so  admirably  calculated  to  supply  tbe  wants  of 
the  interior.  Tbe  establishing  of  a  line  of  ocean  steamers 
foreshadowed  a  great  and  beneficial  change  in  tbe  pros- 
pects of  Baltimore.  Tbe  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Eailroad 
now  terminates  at  Liverpool  and  Bremen,  and  our  city 
has  become  tbe  depot  for  goods  and  wares  tbat  are 
destined  for  tbe  Pacific  coast. 

But  my  object  in  penning  these  papers  is  not  to  trace 
the  rise  and  progress  of  tbe  city  of  Baltimore  :  tbat  has 
already  been  done  by  abler  pens.  My  intention  is  to 
relate  to  tbe  readers  of  tbe  present  period  tbe  experience 
of  an  author  and  composer;  to  draw  sketches  of  well 
known  personages  who  existed  in  former  days,  and  to 
express  my  own  views  of  that  which  I  have  seen  and 
beard.  In  doing  this  I  may  touch  a  delicate  chord  in 
some  bosoms ;  but  I  eschew  all  ill-will  or  malice. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST, 


9 


Literary  Associations  witli  Rufas  Dawes 
AND  OTHEE  POETS. 

Among  ray  first  literary  associates  was  Eufus  Dawes, 
the  poet ;  a  man  of  refined  ideas,  and  a  scholar  of  the 
first  order.  We  became  strongly  attached  to  each  other 
and  were  constant  companions,  for  our  tastes  harmo- 
nized as  well  as  our  dispositions,  and  in  the  literary 
coteries  of  the  day  we  ever  stood  side  by  side. 

Dawes  was  a  wit — one  of  the  refined  order.  He  was 
a  poet  of  sentiment  and  passion,  though  he  was  never 
fully  estimated  by  the  public  at  large.  His  volume  of 
"  The  Valley  of  JSfashaway,  and  Other  Poems,'*  was  a 
casket  of  gems,  as  pure  and  unsullied  as  the  dewdrops 
embosomed  among  the  white  petals  of  a  newly-opened 
lily.  He  never  failed  in  his  efforts  to  lead  me  aside  from 
the  dull  speculations  of  this  life  of  cares  and  disappoint- 
ments, for  he  was  ever  among  the  stars.  The  moon 
was  a  tablet  on  which  he  traced  his  thoughts,  the  bright 
blue  skies  were  scarcely  deep  enough  for  his  wandering 
imagination.  He  read  volumes  in  the  brooks  and  rivers, 
and  translated  the  tacit  language  of  flowers  into  the 
tongue  of  song.    To  use  his  own  language : — 

"  And  I  have  found  in  poor,  neglected  flowers, 
Companionship  for  many  weary  hours; 
And  high  above  the  mountain's  crest  of  snow, 
Communed  with  storm-clouds  in  their  wrath  below." 

No  one  doubted  the  inspiration  of  the  Western  muse 
after  our  pres-s  put  forth  such  beauties  as  are  the  off- 
spring of  the  pens  of  Hillhouse,  Bryant,  Percival,  and 
Willis.  The  name  of  the  former  is  not  familiar  to  every 
reader,  but  his  writings  were  such  as  will  at  some  future 
period^ yield  him  undying  fame.  Dawes  pursued  a 
udicious  course.  He  did  not  cause  the  press  to  groan 
1* 


10 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


w  ith  productions  that  might  have  sated  his  admirers  by 
a  perusal.  His  poems,  like  comets,  appeared  "few  and 
far  between";  though,  when  they  came,  they  were  robed 
in  dazzling  splendor  all  their  own.  In  short,  none  of 
our  native  poets  have  gained  so  enviable  a  reputation 
upon  so  small  a  number  of  publications  as  Dawes,  if  I 
except  Sprague  and  Richard  Wilde  ;  the  quality,  not  the 
quantity,  placed  him  among  the  most  favored  of  our 
bards.  His  earliest  productions,  which,  I  believe,  first 
appeared  in  the  United  States  Literary  Gazette,  won  him 
a  popularity  which  has  never  been  in  the  least  tarnished 
by  those  which  subsequently  appeared  in  the  columns 
of  the  Baltimore  Emerald,  a  weekly  journal  which  he 
conducted  with  marked  ability,  and  which  was  after- 
wards merged  with  the  Minerva,  Many  of  the  readers 
of  this  retrospect  may,  doubtless,  remember  a  series  of 
poems  published  at  the  period  of  which  I  now  write, 
under  the  title  of  the  ^'  Times,"  than  which  a  more  ex- 
cellent imitation  of  Byron's  "Don  Juan"  has  never 
appeared  on  this  side  the  Atlantic.  In  these  poems  the 
characteristic  foibles  of  the  day  were  finely  hit  off,  and 
gave  clear  proof  of  the  author's  satiric  vein  ;  saying 
nothing  of  the  beauty  of  the  thoughts,  and  the  brilliant 
stream  of  wit  and  humor  that  ran  through  every 
line.  John  Neal,  with  more  liberality  than  was  ever 
accorded  to  him,  without  knowing  the  name  of  the 
author,  pronounced  the  series  of  cantos  more  racy  and 
better  written  than  Halleck's  "Fanny,"  or  Walters' 
"  Sukey."  The  "  Times  "  created  a  great  sensation  in 
Baltimore,  though  their  locality  prevented  a  wide  read- 
ing beyond  the  limits  of  the  city.  They  perished,  with 
many  other  ephemeral  productions  of  the  day. 

The  only  strictly  literary  periodical  published  in  Balti- 
more at  the  time  of  which  I  now  write,  was  the  Portico, 
a  weekly,  printed  by  a  bookseller,  Mr.  Edward  J.  Coale, 
an  amiable  and  popular  gentleman.  Many  able  pens 
contributed  to  this  work ;  among  them  were  those  of 
Edward  Pinckney  and  Francis  S.  Key,  whose  "  Star- 
Spangled  Banner"  seems  to  be  linked  with  the  glorious 
destiny  of  this  country.    The  Portico  did  not  live  long  j 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


11 


for,  after  a  brilliant  though  brief  career,  it  went  the  way 
of  all  Southern  literary  journals. 

The  daily  papers  published  in  Baltimore  at  that 
period  were:  the  Evening  Gazette,  by  William  G-wynn  ; 
the  American,  by  Murphy,  Dobbin  &  Bose  ;  and  the 
Chronicle,  by  Peachin  &  Leakin.  The  Patriot,  by  Isaac 
Monroe,  was  established  some  years  later.  There  were 
no  quarterlies  or  monthlies. 

The  failure  of  the  Portico  did  not  deter  Dawes  from 
founding  the  Emerald,  which  became  popular  with  the 
then  circumscribed  reading  class.    It  was  handsomely 
printed  in  quarto  form,  by  Benjamin  Edes,one  of  the  lead- 
ing printers  of  the  day,  and  a  good-hearted,  though  not 
strictly  a  business  man.    The  Emerald  continued  about 
six  months,  and  then  took  a  folio  form,  and  appeared 
weekly  under  the  title  of  The  Baltimore  Minerva  and 
Emerald,  I  being  the  sole  editor,  though  Dawes  con- 
tinued to  contribute  to  its  columns.   It  contained  a  large 
amount  of  original  matter— tales,  essays,  criticisms, 
poetry  and  reviews — for  its  columns  were  opened  to  all 
writers  of  any  pretensions,  and  not  confined  to  a  select 
few.     This  truly  democratic  mode  of  conducting  a 
journal  pleased  the  masses,  and  the  Minerva  became  ex- 
tremely popular,  though,  in  truth,  there  was  no  small 
quantity  of  trash  published  in  it,  and  many  of  its  original 
articles' were  puerile,  and  such  as  might  please  the  fancy 
of  school-misses  and  boys.     However,  it  eventually 
brought  out  hidden  talent— writers  who  are  now  well 
known  to  the  literary  world,  though  but  tiros  then. 
The  first  efforts  of  Brantz  Mayer  were  made  through 
its  columns.    Timothy  S.  Arthur  wrote  for  it ;  also  J ohn 
N.  McJilton  and  Nathan  C.  Brooks.    The  early  effusions 
of  Elizabeth  Bogart  and  Phoebe  M.  Clark  likewise  graced 
its  columns,  while  many  ladies  contributed  under  various 
nommes  de  plume,    Mr.  Ford,  the  uncle  of  the  present 
John  T.  Ford,  the  popular  theatrical  manager,  was  a 
voluminous  contributor.    lie  was  a  carpenter,  and  his 
essays  were  always  in  support  of  the  mechanic  arts  and 
the  elevation  of  the  hard-fisted/' 

The  Minerva's  BMCcess  induced  a  restless  M.  D.  who 


12 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


could  not  "cramp  his  genius  over  a  pestle  and  mortar/^ 
to  inaugurate  another  weekly  of  the  same  kind  in 
opposition.  It  was  called  the  Wreath^  and  the  editorial 
department  was  under  the  control  of  Doctor  Lucius 
O'Brien,  a  good-natured  Irishman,  but  barely  cut  out 
for  the  responsibility  of  a  journalist.  The  Wreath 
struggled  through  a  sickly  existence  of  half  a  year,  and 
then  gave  up  the  ghost;  not,  however,  without  firing 
many  a  severe  shot  into  the  sides  of  its  more  successful 
rival. 

The  journals  published  in  Baltimore  in  1829  (the 
population  then  being  about  75,000)  were  as  follows : — 
Annual,  none;  quarterly,  none;  monthly,  none;  semi- 
monthly, the  Mutual  Eights  and  Christian  Intelligencer^ 
and  the  Itinerant ;  weekly,  Niles'  Megister,  the  American 
Farmer,  the  Minerva  and  Emerald,  and  the  Saturday 
Evening  Fost ;  daily,  the  Gazette,  the  American,  the 
Chronicle,  the  Fatriot,  and  the  Rejpuhlican,    Total,  11. 

This  was  but  a  poor  display  when  contrasted  with 
Boston,  which,  with  a  population  of  only  50,000  souls, 
sustained  44  journals  of  various  kinds.  Baltimore, 
even  now,  is  far  behind  Northern  cities. 


The  Editor. 

My  fondness  for  the  life  of  a  journalist  caused  me  to 
neglect,  to  a  considerable  degree,  my  sheet-anchor — 
music.  In  a  country  like  this,  where  the  periodical 
press  flourishes  free  and  untrammelled,  and  where 
almost  every  cross-road  settlement  boasts  a  press  of 
its  own,  while  the  periodicals  of  large  cities  scatter 
their  stores  of  information  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
most  densely  settled  territories,  the  character  and  high 
standing  of  an  editor  are  not  so  fully  appreciated  as 
they  are  in  Europe,  where  journals  are  fewer  in  -pro- 
portion, to  the  amount  of  population,  besides  being 
subordinate  to  and  under  the  supervision  of  the  ruling 
powers. 

The  cha,racter  of  an  editor  has  its  private  stamp  as 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST,  13 

well  as  that  of  the  poet,  the  painter,  or  the  musician  ; 
it  is  generally  found  on  the  summit  of  origmahty.  lie 
is  the  oracle  of  taste,  the  umpire  of  fashion,  the  organ 
of  his  country's  wants,  the  redresser  of  her  wrongs, 
and  the  distributor  of  public  reputation.  He  exerts,  as 
it  were,  an  extensive  jurisdiction,  and  it  is  not  without 
reason  that  pigmies  in  high  places  exclaim,  "  ihe 
pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword."  That  journalism  is  a 
power,  one  with  which  they,  in  all  their  vigor  and 
influence,  have  not  the  strength  to  wrestle,  they  can- 
not deny.  The  periodical  press  is  their  bane.  Never- 
theless, no  profession  conceals,  perhaps,  so  many  thorns 
and  thistles  under  the  roses  which  adorn  it.  Con- 
tending with  self-love,  susceptibilities,  and  exigencies, 
the  editor  dares  not  even  flatter  himself  to  fill  his  house, 
like  Socrates,  with  friends. 

What  hireling  was  ever  burdened  with  a  more  toil- 
some task?  Hardly  has  he  finished  the  "forms "  for 
to-day  when  to-morrow's  columns  claim  their  material ; 
and,  behold  him,  in  spite  of  Minerva,  bringing  forth 
daily,  without  more  hopes  of  filling  up  the  created 
spaces  than  the  daughters  of  Danaus  had  of  finishing 
their  task  with  the  fatal  sieves. 

Still,  if  he  could  promise  himself,  at  some  remote 
period'  the  sweet  slumbers  and  good  things  of  a  fat 
office  under  the  Government,  or  the  lucrative  appoint- 
ment to  the  duty  of  polisher  of  the  public  moneys, 
then  might  he  glory  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  But 
no;  in  this  model  Republic"  he  stands  no  better 
chance  than  those  beneath  him,  save  in  the  time  of  a 
sweeping  reform,  when  he  chanced  to  be  on  the  right 
side  of  the  fence.  He  cannot  hope  for  immortality; 
for  ephemeral  works,  like  the  insects  of  Hypanis,  sur- 
vive not  the  setting  sun  that  gave  them  birth  m  his 
rising;  and  the  parent  of  those  short-lived  children,  as 
fugitive  as  the  leaves  of  the  Sibyl,  sees  them  rolled 
into  spiral  forms  to  hold  pepper  or  ginger  for  a  neigh- 
boring grocer,  or  torn  into  strips  to  bind  up  the  stray 
tresses  of  a  simpering  schoolgirl. 

Fate,  too,  with  stubborn  malignity,  incessantly  causes 


14 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


the  pen  and  the  temperament  of  the  editor  to  be  at 
variance.  Should  he  be  happy  and  joyous,  he  must 
lament  some  sad  catastrophe.  Has  the  partner  of  his 
life  made  him  a  proud  father,  he  must  write  funeral 
obituary.  Is  he  ordered  by  his  physician  to  use  plain 
diet,  to  cure  dyspeptic  complaints;  he  must  describe 
civic  dinners  and  the  perfumes  of  electioneering  viands. 
Has  he  a  fit  of  the  spleen,  he  is  compelled  to  write 
humorous  stories ;  to  laugh,  as  Horace  tells  us  Ixion 
did  at  the  music  of  Mercury's  lyre  in  the  abodes  of  the 
Shades. 

After  pondering  over  his  notes,  he  seats  himself  in 
his  solitary  sanctum,  pale  and  thoughtful.  Everything 
then  becomes  to  him  an  object  to  comment  on,  for  his 
summary  must  be  filled ;  all  nature  seems  paraded 
before  him;  he  has  but  one  object  in  view,  an  item  for 
his  columns.  All  his  ideas,  all  his  feelings,  are,  by  one 
sudden  fusion,  thrown  into  the  periodical  mould,  and 
burn  to  spread  themselves  into  pages  and  swell  into 
volumes.  See  him— his  eyes  cast  up,  his  mouth  half 
open— ever  on  the  track  of  events,  and  more  eager  in 
the  pursuit  than  Eousseau  after  the  periwinkle.  Duels, 
assassinations,  robberies,  broken  legs,  sudden  deaths^ 
bursting  boilers,  lamp-explosions,  broken  banks,  re- 
movals, dishonest  officials,  ghosts,  hailstorms,  and 
thunder  and  lightning,  are  the  precious  spoils  with 
which  to  enrich  his  summary— the  fruitful  harvest  of 
pathetics  which  he  garners  up  to  excite  the  nervous 
irritability  of  his  sentimental  readers.  He  never  fails 
to  attend  courts  of  justice,  to  watch  and  note  the 
smallest  events  of  the  career  of  crime  toward  the 
dreadful  issue  so  often  accomplished  by  means  of  the 
gallows. 

The  dramatic  art  belongs  particularly  to  the  editorial 
jurisdiction,  and  is  sustained  by  the  power  of  the  press. 
The  doors  of  the  theatre  are  respectfully  thrown  open 
to  the  autocrat  of  the  pen.  Let  him  enter  the  green- 
room after  some  witty  sarcasm  on  the  talents  of  the 
actors  or  actresses  has  appeared  in  his  journal.  In  a 
moment  he  is  assailed  with  their  interpretations;  he 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST,  15 

hears  the  clamor  from  all  quarters :  Ignorance  ! "  in- 
iustice'"  malice!"  &c.  The  dignified  Eoman  father 
throws  aside  his  stage  character;  the  pale  Opheha 
bursts  into  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  and  even  the  prompter 
assumes  the  voice  of  a  Stentor.  However,  the  commo- 
tion ceases  by  a  wise  forethought,  and  the  dissatisfied 
become  sycophants,  by  striving  to  be  the  first  restored 
to  the  good  graces  of  the  arbitrator  of  their  fate. 
Lear  calms  his  madness;  Othello  foregoes  his  "  pride, 
pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war";  Macbeth 
drops  the  dagger  to  do  the  honors  of  the  tobacco-box ; 
Audrey  breaks  loose  from  her  archness,  and  Furies  cast 
tender  glances  on  him. 

But  the  true  editor  disdains  all  these  decoys.  ±ie 
courts  inspiration  for  the  sake  of  taste.  Public  opinion, 
Booner  or  later,  disgraces  the  mercenary  Aristarchus 
who  barters  his  praises  for  a  service  of  plate,  or  the  base 
Troilus,  bent  upon  railing  against  the  superior  talents  ot 
a  modern  Eoscius.  But,  when  his  country's  cause 
CTides  his  pen,  then  the  editor's  calling  becomes  exalted, 
and  even  sacred.  Then  is  the  time  to  display  all  the 
glories,  the  virtues,  the  impartiality  and  the  independ- 
ence  of  the  press.  Then  his  columns,  as  it  were,  become 
the  rostrum  from  which,  like  the  Eoman  orator,  he 
points  out  to  the  people's  animadversion  the  infernal 
plottings  of  the  Catalines,  or  the  extortions  of  the 
Verreses.  .       .  . 

In  the  days  when  the  rancor  of  party  animosity  is 
carried  to  excess,  we  have  seen  editors,  bought  up  by 
the  tempting  bribes  of  demagogues,  distilling  from  their 
pens  the  poison  of  anarchy,  and  veiling  their  original 
principles  under  the  title  of  "  The  People's  Friend."  In 
a  popular  representative  government,  an  editor  should 
be  the  depository  of  the  people's  thoughts,  the  echo  of 
national  sentiment,  and  the  advance-guard  of  public 
liberty.  Entrusted  with  the  watchword,  he  should 
bring  abuses  and  usurpation  of  power^  to  a  stand,  and 
shield  the  palladium  of  freedom. 

Among  the  editors  with  whom  I  freely  associated  was 
William "^Gwynn,  of  the  Evening  Gazette.    He  was  a 


16  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

w.ll^^*''''  ^"'^V °f  *^ourse,  not  free  from  the  characteristic 
weaknesses  of  bachelors.  He  lived  pretty  much  by 
himself,  and  for  himself,  in  a  quaintly  Constructed 
build.ng  m  the  rear  of  his  office%nd  closely  wedged 
agamst  Barnum's  City  Hotel,  on  Bank  Lane.  His  habits 
were  rather  staid,  though  he  was  sociable  with  intimate 
friends,  and  enjoyed  a  bottle  of  good  wine  with  as  much 
gusto  as  did  John  Palstaff  his  fack.  At  a  repartee  he 
ZZ.Tutr,  ^"^1       avalanche  of  anecdote 

hn3     w         u!T  ^^'^        ^'P«  ^'^en  at  the  festive 
boaid     He  might  have  been  classed  with  portly  men  • 
though  he  was  not  over-tall.    His  features  were  open 
and  inte  ligent.    His  editorials  were  not  remarkable  for 
their  bnlli;incy,  but  they  were  solid  and  highly  flavored 

To^ilnT'T-  ^  ^^^y^^-  by  profes-sion,  very 

popular,  and  a  nian  whose  opinion  was  respected.  He 
died  poor,  and  the  Gazette  died  before  him 

Samuel  Barnes,  the  leading  editor  of  the  Ohronicle, 
was  a  deep  politician  and  a  writer  of  some  ability,  though 
strongly  tainted  with  old-fashioned  notions.  His  politi- 
cal essays  carried  much  weight  with  them:  but  his 

uneasily  when  he  floundered  out  of  his  natural  element. 
He  was  an  enthusiastic  Whig,  and  his  political  articles 
in  favor  of  his  party  doctrines  were  dry  and  caustic: 
some  people  thought  him  even  morose  and  misanthropic 
on  account  of  his  extremely  luminous  nose,  which  caused 
those  who  did  not  know  him  to  suppos^  that  he  was 
intemperate.  Quite  the  reverse:  Mr.  Barnes  was  a 
very  abstemious  man  His  misfortune,  it  was  under- 
stood, was  caused  by  the  bite  of  a  rat;  the  "feature" 
became  inflamed,  and  he  bore  it  thus  to  the  grave  He 
was  a  moral  man,  warm-hearted,  liberal  with  the  goods 
ot  this  world,  and  yet  not  extravagant.  Thfouffh 
industry  he  accumulated  a  handsome  property,  thou|h 
he  left  no  children  to  squander  it  away.  ^ 

bheppard  0.  Leaken,  his  partner  in  the  Chronicle  con- 
cern wrote  but  httle  for  the  journal;  the  financial  care 
oi  tbe  establishment  was  almost  entirely  under  his 
Charge.    He  was  a  handsome  man,  extremely  popular 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


17 


with  the  people  of  all  parties  and  classes  ;  assisted  ma- 
terially in  establishing  a  creditable  military  system,  and 
rose  to  the  rank  of  Brigadier-General.  At  different 
times  he  held  the  offices  of  Mayor  and  Sheriff  of  Balti- 
more. I  have  passed  many  a  social  evening  with  Gen. 
Leaken  ;  he  was  excellent  company,  witty,  and  remark- 
ably fond  of  a  joke,  even  though  it  was  perpetrated  at 
his  own  expense.  During  the  "  Bank  Eiot "  he  particu- 
larly distinguished  himse^lf  by  his  coolness  and  courage. 
He  died  near  Lake  Eoland  a  year  or  two  ago,  at  an  ad- 
vanced age,  leaving  children  of  whom  a  parent  might 
well  be  proud. 

William  Peachin— -familiarly  known  as  Billy  Peachin 
—was  one  of  the  veterans  of  the  Press  gang.'^  He 
established  the  Chronicle,  was  associated  with  the  Ameri- 
can, and  in  some  way  or  another  connected  with  other 
journals.  He  was  a  bustling,  mercurial  little  man,  and 
for  a  long  time  after  the  article  had  gone  out  of  fashion, 
wore  a  queue,  which  never  failed  to  attract  attention. 
In  his  political  creed  he  was  extremely  ultra,  and 
hammered  his  opponents  without  mercy.  At  hustings 
and  other  political  gatherings,  his  shrill  voice  might  be 
heard  above  all  others,  and  his  violent  gesticulations 
were  sure  to  draw  the  crowd,  while — 

"  So  quick  the  words,  too,  when  he  deigned  to  speak, 
As  if  each  syllable  would  break  its  neck." 

Mr.  Peachin,  however,  was  a  very  worthy  man  and  a 
useful  citizen.  He  entered  heart  and  soul  into  many 
enterprises  for  the  benefit  of  Baltimore,  and  reaped  but 
little  or  no  profit,  certainly  no  thanks,  for  his  exertions. 
In  his  decline  of  life,  instead  of  being  comfortable,  he 
went  down  to  the  grave  dependent  on  his  children. 

Thomas  Murphy,  the  senior  partner  in  the  American, 
was  a  short,  thick-set  man  ;  a  most  amiable  gentleman, 
respected  and  esteemed  by  all  who  enjoyed  the  pleasure 
of  his  society.  Quiet  and  unobtrusive  in  his  demeanor, 
placid  in  his  manners  and  unostentatious  everywhere, 
he,  of  course,  had  numerous  friends.    He  did  not  write 


18  SHADOWS  ON-  THE  WALL; 

editor'  &  tot^'^^r'"  ^  P^^^t''^^'  P^5»t«r  than 
that  hiAw  .1  W''^''"'"'*^'^*  «t™t  economy 
Jess    Mr^T^^S  indebted  for  its  suJ 

proper^  to  hi?^  ^'^^  ^  a  large 

property  to  his  numerous  relatives.  The  firm  was 
origma  ly  Murphy,  Dobbin  &  Bose.  The  latterTenTle- 
man  retired  some  years  since,  and  Mr.  Dobbin  Jhe  onlv 

chSeTf  "fhT';";  H^'k^  ^"^^'^^^  partnership,'took  soK 
cnarge  ot  the  establishment.  It  is,  at  the  present 
writing,  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  C.  0.  Fulton.  TheTmm* 
can  has  always  sustained  an  elevated  posittfn  among 
the  daily  journals  of  the  country.  It  was  for  a  lonf 
otthe"  Wh?'  '        ^'^'^"^  took  up  the  causf 

admtistTat^on^'^'^-  ^^^^^^  V-^blican 

J  5?pnp£  intimate  associates  was  Dr.  Edward 

aitric^fve'  riL  of  the  J-.^...on  iBe/omer,  a  man  of 
vSni      f  ^""^  ''"'"^"t  education,  though  a 

violent  and  headstrong  politician.  His  iournal  was 
noted  for  its  haphazard"^  style  of  promSatiW^ts 
pecuhar  doctrines,  and  the  editor  was  ZtSallf  an 
prehensive  of  being  waylaid  on  the  streets  orfiLlly 
disposed  of  by  some  revengeful  assassin-an' apprehen^ 
sion  which  proved  to  be  too  well  founded.  In^a'^severe 

StS    Onro/fr'  """^^"^"^  family  of  t  j: 

btuaits.    One  of  the  young  men  of  that  familv  chal 
lenged  him,  but  he  declined  Ihe  meeting  on  aSnt  of 

sa  isf;"#ou;%.°'"r^t*''-     ^'^^^  ^^'^'^  did  not 
and  shof  h?,^^.        \7^^,^^*^^^d  his  opportunity 
ana  snot  him  one  night  while  seatpH  \r,  ^.tfi^ 
North  Gay  street.  ^  '"^ 

At  that  time  I  commanded  the  "  Marion  Eifle  Corns  " 
of  which  company  Alcock  was  the  surgeon  On  the 
occasion  of  his  funeral  the  corps  turned^  autwS  full 
ranks  and  buried  their  friend  and  comrade\^  h  miH 

T7a^:Z)\y.?l' f'''''^'''^  -^^^^"^^^  appearrd  in  the 
atSmS  !  P^r^P^P""  established,  or  rather 

funeral  Baltimore),  on  the  evening  previous  to  the 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  1^ 

"  We  come,  to  burv  Ccesar,  not  to  praise  him:' 

In  recording  this  instance  of  fatality,  the  writer  of  this  article 
has  endeavored,  as  much  as  possible,  to  divest  himself  of  all  party 
feeling  (being  politically  opposed  to  the  subject  of  his  remarks), 
and  to  cool  down  the  probably  too  excessive  glow  of  friendly 
feeling  the  recent  affliction  may  have  created.  It  is  well  ^nown 
to  the  community  that  the  death  of  Dr.  Alcock  was  caused  by  a 
bullet  fired  from  a  pistol  in  the  hands  of  a  young  man  by  the 
name  of  George  Stuart,  a  young  man  of  "a  highly  respectable 
family  "  The  cause  of  this  fatal  act  is  also  too  well  known  to  the 
Dublic.  It  originated  altogether  from  party  animosity.  And,  is 
it  not  a  melancholy  spectacle  for  every  lover  of  his  country  to 
behold  the  'maimed  corpse  of  a  warm  and  ingenuous  patriot— to 
hear  the  sobs  of  relatives  and  friends,  and  feel  the  warm  tear  ol 
sorrow  stealing  down  his  own  manly  cheek?  It  is  indeed  a  saa 
reflection  to  know  that  a  valuable  citizen,  in  the  meridian  ot  iile, 
was  cut  off  in  his  career  of  usefulness,  leaving  a  bereaved  and 
dependent  family,  through  that  bane  of  all  social  intercourse 
party  rancor.  When  will  the  storm  abate?  When  will 
Americans  unite  as  a  band  of  brothers,  with  hearts  glowing  m 
unison  for  the  nation's  glory  and  the  general  weal  ?  ,  o  tt^ 

Edward  J.  Alcock  had  his  faults— and  what  man  has  not  i  He 
was  a  warm  advocate  of  the  administration  of  Andrew  Jackson. 
This  we  do  not  consider  a  fault ;  yet  his  feelings  frequently  burst 
the  bounds  of  control,  and  the  excess  constituted  the  tault.  1  ne 
violence  with  which  he  advocated  the  cause  of State  i^etorm  is 
fresh  in  the  memory  of  those  who  perused  the  pages  of  the  Jeffer- 
son Reformer,  a  journal  which  he  conducted  with  more  talent 
than  discretion.  He  was  the  stern  and  fearless  advocate  of  the 
interests  of  the  workingmen ;  labored  for  the  equal  distribution 
of  iustice;  and  strongly  advocated  the  "  levelling  system,  which 
he  considered  purely  democratic.  His  impetuous  disposition 
frequently  led  him  into  errors  which  his  proud  spirit  would  not 
allow  him  to  acknowledge.  He  consequently  created  enemies, 
when  his  rare  talents  should  have  secured  him  friends  and  ad- 
mirers. In  cases  where  public  spirit  was  required  for  the  estab- 
lishment or  completion  of  any  work  which  might  prove  of  general 
benefit,  he  was  always  its  warmest  and  most  liberal  advocate ; 
but,  when  he  beheld  the  object  abused,  he  was  the  first  to  raise 
his  voice  against  the  maladministration  of  those  in  POWer.  1  he 
poor  have  often  blessed  him ;  his  means  were  scanty,  but  what  he 
gave  he  bestowed  in  the  true  spirit  of  charity. 

He  has  gone  from  among  us  in  the  prime  of  hfe,  while  the 
cheerful  smile  of  content  was  on  his  lips,  and  his  eyes  beamed 
with  all  the  pride  and  gratification  of  a  father  watching  the  pro- 
gress of  his  now  orphan  children.  He  had  pictured  many  days 
of  happiness  yet  to  dawn;  for,  though  he  was  aware  of  his 
danger  from  the  open  and  bold  position  he  had  taken,  yet  he 
never  anticipated  such  a  result.    Bequiescat  in  pace. 


20  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

The  Eev.  Benjamin  Kurtz,  editor  of  the  Lutheran 
mserver  was  a  man  of  good,  practical,  sound  enTe 
His  writings  were  plain,  but  to  the  point;  and  he  was 
S/ali;  bis  congregatiL  and  the  puS 

geneiallj.    He  was  said  to  be  rather  close  in  his 
dealings.    When  on  a  tour  through  Europe  he  ha^ 
penedto    arry  in  an  inland  Germln  tow?which  w£ 
nifested  with  organ-grinders.    The  reverend  gentle  Jan 
had  no  particular  fondness  for  music,  and  Se  eTpe 

feSoi'wt''  P'*^'"'^^  ^^'^^^'^^^  organLts!^!' 
fellow,  who  was  proprietor  of  a  barrelled  machine  and 
a  monkey  of  attractive  appearance,  seeing  that  his 
victim  was  a  foreigner,  as  he  sat  on  the  hotd  balcony 
on  chairs,  one  for  the  body  and  the  other  for  the 
egs   immediately  struck  up  "God  save  the  King" 

head  Th.  ^'""^Patrtis™-"  Mr.  Kurtz  shook  his 
head.  The  musician  then  struck  up  «  La  Marseillaise  " 
Again  the  American  shook  his  head.  Severa  other 
national  airs  were  tried,  but  with  no  better  effect  and 
the  man  and  monkey  began  to  think  they  had  eneoun 
the  f <^««^«P«Iit^>  when  a  bright  id^ea  %hted  up 
the  features  of  both  Jocko  and  his  master,  while  the 
latter  exclaimed,  "Ah,  ha!-Yankee  Doodl^-  and  he 
wi^fT"'^  T  l^o'^^  national  melody  Mr 
I^urtz,  finding  that  he  was  cornered,  threw  the  wan 

theedit,  of.  acquaintance  with  Samuel  Harker, 
tbe  editoi  of  a  Democratic  paper  entitled  the  Republican 
?eal  of  «^  ^"'^  unobtrusive  man ;  possessefa  good 
deal  of  stamina  as  a  journalist  and  politician.  Horace 
I  7n  tT'co^  took  charge  Jf  the  Bepum::, 
CM  ^  o'^'^T®  ^^^^         the  hands  of 

Col.  Henry  S.  Sanderson,  afterwards  the  recipient  of 
several  municipal  offices.    It  finally  eame  S.ihl 

title  of  the  Mepubhcan  and  Argus 

Mr.  Eichardson  is  at  this  present  writing  still  living 
to  mv  MnT'  ^"r  ^  resting-place ;  and  /feel  disposed 
to  pay  him  a  compliment  for  his  sterling  patriotism, 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


21 


his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  South,  and  the  noble 
patience  with  which  he  bore  his  persecutions.  While 
editing  the  Argu8  (the  name  of  Republican  having  been 
dropped),  such  was  the  firm  and  unwavering  stand  he 
took,  that  the  pimps  and  spies  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment kept  him  in  continual  surveillance,  watching  his 
every  movement,  until  they  at  length  gathered  suffi- 
cient proof  to  establish  the  charge  of  "treason"  against 
the  "  purest  Government  under  the  face  of  the  sun," 
and  then  he  was  banished  from  his  home  and  many 
friends.  The  cause  of  his  arrest  is  not  generally 
known.  It  was  this :  At  about  the  time  when  infants 
with  their  nurses  were  arrested  for  wearing  Confed- 
erate colors — red  and  white — the  Argus  contained  an 
editorial  article  recommending  that  the  police  had 
better  arrest  a  cow  whose  hide  displayed  the  objec- 
tionable colors.  That  hint  was  enough ;  the  chain- 
links  were  rivetted,  not  on  the  cow,  but  the  editor,  and 
he  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  finally  sent  into  Dixie, 
where  he  was  well  provided  for. 

Mr.  Eichardson,  on  the  ending  of  the  fruitless  struggle, 
returned  to  Baltimore,  and  became  a  contributor  to 
the  columns  of  the  Methodist  Protestant,  a  religious 
journal  formerly  conducted  by  the  lamented  Eeese.  He 
was  afterwards  appointed  one  of  the  Judges  of  the 
Appeal  Tax  Court,  but  retired  on  account  of  ill  health. 
He  is  an  urbane  and  gentlemanly  man ;  a  ready  writer, 
and, no  doubt,  sincere  in  the  expression  of  his  sentiments. 


William  Lloyd  Garrison. 

William  Lloyd  Garrison,  the  Abolition  firebrand,  at 
the  time  of  which  I  now  write  (1829),  began  to  show 
his  tushes.  He  was  a  delicately  small  young  man,  stiff 
in  his  demeanor,  and  of  rather  a  sanctified  caste  ;  though 
his  religious  sentiments  were  "  neither  here  nor  there." 
Nobody  doubted  his  talents ;  but  they  were  of  a  dan- 
gerous order.  He  was  ambitious  for  a  reputation,  no 
matter  how  obtained  ;  though  many  were  of  the  opinion 


22 


SHADOWS  ON-  THE  WALL; 


that  the  appearance  of  a  halter  made  of  Southern  hemp 
would  have  frightened  him  out  of  his  boots.  Had  he 
been  disposed  of  when  he  ventured  as  far  south  as 
J3altimore,  the  unfortunate  events  which  have  occurred 
within  the  last  decade  might  have  been  avoided. 

My  acquaintance  with  this  notorious  individual  was 
of  short  duration ;  and,  as  it  was  brought  about  without 
a  formal  introduction,  I  will  allude  to  it. 

There  was  a  small  anti-slavery  journal  published  in 
J3altimore,  and  edited  by  one  Benjamin  Lunday.  In 
this  journal  Garrison  attacked  the  reputation  of  Mr. 
Francis  Todd,  of  Newburyport,  whom  he  accused  of 
having  acquired  wealth  by  a  base  traffic  in  human  flesh. 
Garrison  was  sued  for  a  libel,  and  the  case  was  brought 
before  J udge  Nicholas  Brice.  He  was  found  guilty  and 
fined  $50  and  costs,  both  of  which  he  determined  not 
to  pay,  and  was  consequently  sent  to  jail.  In  the 
Minerva  the  following  editorial  appeared  : 
^  "  Mr.  Garrison  is  now  a  voluntary  inmate  of  the  Bal- 
timore jail ;  for,  notwithstanding  the  commiseration  of 
the  Northern  and  Eastern  philanthropists,  it  does  not 
appear  that  the  gentleman  received  a  direct  sentence  of 
imprisonment,  except  for  the  non-payment  of  the  fifty 
dollars,  a  sum  which  he  might  easily  raise  among  his 
friends,  if  it  be  not  already  in  his  pocket.  We  have 
always  looked  upon  Mr.  Garrison  as  a  young  man  of 
talent,  but  wanting  in  discretion." 

He  replied  tartly  to  the  charge,  denying  it  in  toto 
winding  up  his  communication  with  the  following  lan- 
guage:—« I  understand  that  his  Honor  Judge  Brice 
opines  that  Mr.  Garrison  is  ambitious  to  become  a 
martyr;  to  which  I  beg  leave  to  reply,  that  if  the 
suspicion  of  his  Honor  be  correct,  he  is  equally  ambi- 
tious to  collect  the  fagots  and  apply  the  torch." 

The  fact  is,  this  extremely  modest  young  aspirant 
after  notoriety  had  just  established  his  Genius  of  Uni- 
versal Emancipation  in  Boston,  and  was  desirous  of 
bringing  his  inflammatory  sheet  before  the  public.  He 
succeeded  in  making  himself  world-renowned  ;  he  suc- 
ceeded in  exciting  the  sympathy  of  half  the  Northern 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


23 


and  Eastern  people;  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  money 
from  a  benevolent  gentleman  in  New  York  to  pay  his 
way  out  of  prison  ;  but  he  did  not  succeed  in  convincing 
the  citizens  of  Baltimore  that  he  was  a  persecuted  man. 
His  hypocrisy  was  exposed,  and  he  had  to  leave  the 
city  post-haste,  through  dread  of  a  coat  of  tar  and 
feathers.  His  career  has  ever  since  been  confined  to 
the  regions  north  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  and  the 
good  his  pen  accomplished  might  be  seen  in  the  wrang- 
ling and  fiery  debates  in  Congress,  the  gradual  estrange- 
ment of  one  section  of  the  Union  from  the  other, 
and,  finally,  disorder,  rebellion,  anarchy,  bloodshed  and 
desolation. 

Mrs.  Ann  Koyall. 

Among  the  literary  celebrities  of  other  days  was  Mrs. 
Ann  Eoyall.  She  is,  no  doubt,  well  remembered  by 
many  who  may  read  these  reminiscences. 

Mrs.  Eoyall  was  one  of  the  original  strong-minded 
women  of  this  country.  She  was  not  exactly  a  J oan  of 
Arc  or  a  Lucretia  Borgia ;  but  she  was— Ann  Koyall, 
one  of  the  corps  editorial ;  and,  as  such,  merits  a  passing 
notice.  How  she  came  within  the  circle  of  my  acquaint- 
ance will  be  seen  by  reading  on. 

She  was  a  squatty,  round-faced,  sharp-nosed^  thin- 
lipped  little  woman,  who  claimed  the  proprietorship  of 
a  tongue  which  was  tied  in  the  middle  and  vibrated  at 
both  ends  at  once.  Her  journal,  the  Suntress,  was  the 
leading  organ  of  a  motley  party,  existing  somewhere, 
but  to  be  found  nowhere.  She  sketched  the  lives  and 
limned  the  features  of  members  of  Congress,  executive 
officers,  and  such  as  paid  her  the  price  demanded,  with 
a  skill  and  grace  peculiar  to  herself  alone.  If  a  gentle- 
man, ambitious  to  appear  in  the  front  ground  of  popular 
preferment,  did  not  bleed  freely,  he  was  sure  to  have  a 
deformed  picture — a  sketch  which  I  can  only  liken  to 
the  production  of  a  photographer  whose  subject  moves 
his  face  from  forty-five  degrees  to  five  just  as  the  shade 
is  raised  from  the  camera.    But  he  who  was  liberal  and 


SHADOH^S  ON  THE  WALL; 

paid  his  subscription  promptly  in  advance,  was  beauti- 
lully  photographed,  and  received  the  encouraging  smiles 
of  the  bland  widow  of  Lieut.  Eoyall,  deceased. 

One  morning,  while  I  was  seated  in  my  sanctum, 
knee-deep  m  exchange  papers,  and  flourishing  the  inevit- 
able scissors  with  all  the  importance  of  a  drum-major 
when  he  flourishes  his  staff  at  a  review,  the  gentle  Ann 
took  it  into  her  head  to  make  me  a  call. 

Good  morning,  sir,"  said  she,  puffing  from  the  exer- 
cise of  ascending  the  stairs,  and  dropping  into  a  vacant 
chair. 

"Good  morning,  madam,"  I  replied,  rising  and  bowing 
politely,  though  I  saw  a  squall  ahead.  "  Pray  be  seated. 
Mrs.  Eoyall,  I  presume.  Glad  to  see  you— an  honor 
not  expected — fine  day  "  

"  Exactly  so,"  answered  the  old  lady,  smoothing  down 
her  apron  and  placing  her  spectacles  on  her  nose. 
know  what  you  editors  are—all  deceit— all  hyprocrisy  ! 
You  say  one  thing  and  mean  another.  You  glad  to  see 
me  ?  I  don't  believe  it.  You  wish  me  to  the  devil 
and,  as  to  the  honor  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  bah !  I 
know  it's  a  fine  day  without  your  volunteering  your 
information.** 

Delectable  creature !  thought  I,  though  for  worlds  I 
would  not  have  contradicted  her.  "  To  what  cause  am 
I  indebted  for  this  friendly  visit  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Business— purely  business,"  was  her  reply.  "You 
know,  sir,  we  poor  widows  have  an  up-hill  road  to 
travel.  Men  can  fight  their  way  through  the  world ; 
they  have  the  muscle,  sir;  but  we  weak  females— oh^ 
dear !  I  think  sometimes  that  I  shall  drop  down  in  the 
street,  and  I  don't  believe  that  there  is  a  man  gallant 
enough  to  pick  me  up.  And  I  have  so  much  talking  to  do, 
too.  I  am  compelled  to  talk  ;  if  I  didn't,  I  don't  believe 
people  would  listen  to  me.  The  more  I  talk,  the  more 
folks  think  I  am  worthy  of  their  attention.  Do  you 
know,  sir,  that  I  have  come  across  people  who  have  told 
me  to  put  their  names  down  on  my  subscription  list 
before  I  was  half-done  talking?  Now,  I  want  you  to 
help  me  along:  we  of  the  fraternity  should  aid  one 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


25 


another.  In  the  first  place,  you  must  subscribe  to  my 
paper  and  give  me  a  smacking  editorial  notice.  One 
good  turn  deserves  another ;  I  can  do  you  some  good 
in  my  sketch-book." 

Here  the  lovely  Ann  stopped  to  breathe,  while  i 
thought  of  the  harm  she  might  do  me.  I  receive 
jonr  Huntress  in  exchange  for  my  Minerva,''  said  I, 
blandly. 

So  you  do,  but  that's  not  aiding  the  widow,  rish! 
for  your  paper!  You  may  be  a  very  fine  poet,  a 
learned  essayist,  and  all  that,  but  what  do  I  or  the 
public  care  for  that?  You  must  make  a  sensation,  sir 
— a  sensation.  You  are  young  and  have  got  to  under- 
stand human  nature.  If  you  will  subscribe  and  pay  in 
advance,  I  will  give  a  sketch  of  you." 

"  That  may  do  you  no  good  and  me  much  harm," 
replied  I,  smiling. 

Faith,  I  don't  think  it  will  do  me  much  good;  but 
for  yourself,  it  will  place  you  in  honorable  company; 
a  position  you  cannot  expect  to  reach  by  any  other 
means." 

This  sarcasm  touched  me  to  the  very  quick,  and  I, 
abstractedly,  plunged  my  scissors  through  a  sheriff's 
sale  advertisement,  clipped  it  out,  and  placed  it  among 
the  other  choice  selections,  while  the  old  lady  thrust  her 
subscription  list  under  my  nose. 

^'Here's  the  list,"  said  she;  "  and  now's  your  time  to 
get  your  obscure  name  among  the  big  bugs  of  the  nation." 

I  pushed  the  list  from  me,  bitterly  remarking  that  I 
had  no  desire  to  associate  myself  with  individuals 
introduced  by  Mrs.  RoyalL 

The  match  was  applied  to  the  powder  magazine,  and 
an  explosion  took  place  which  came  near  knocking 
Minerva  from  her  high  niche,  and  scattering  her  frag- 
ments to  the  four  quarters  of  the  world.  The  gentle 
Ann  arose  in  all  her  majesty,  and  such  a  volley  of 
abuse  and  billingsgate  eloquence  never  before  poured 
from  the  lips  of  angelic  woman.  For  at  least  a  half 
hour  she  continued  her  battering,  and  did  not  cease 
until  the  "devil"  drove  her  out  of  the  office  with  an 
2 


26 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


ink-roller,  after  I  had  fled  to  the  nearest  magistrate's 
office  for  protection. 

The  next  number  of  the  "  Sketch-book  "  contained  a 
graphic  account  of  ^'  the  monkey  who  edited  the  Balti- 
more Minerva  y 

Hezekiah  Niles,  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  that 
useful  weekly  known  as  Biles'  Register^  was  a  stout^ 
though  short  man,  usually  denominated  "thick-set.'' 
He  was  of  amiable  manners,  though  somewhat  taciturn. 
He  was  very  industrious,  and  rather  popular  through- 
out the  States.  As  a  work  of  reference,  or  a  record  of 
past  events,  his  journal  was  invaluable^  and  may  be 
seen  at  this  day  on  the  shelves  of  every  statesman  and 
politician,  handsomely  bound  and  carefully  preserved. 
I  passed  many  pleasant  evenings  at  his  house,  and 
found  him  highly  companionable.  After  the  death  of 
this  gentleman,  the  Begister  fell  into  the  hands  of  his 
son,  William  Ogden  Niles,  and,  after  a  languid  existence 
of  a  year  or  two,  perished.  Its  place  was  taken  by 
Eives'  Congressional  Globe, 

Messrs.  Skinner  &  Tenny  established  the  first  one 
cent  daily  journal  in  Baltimore.  It  was  called  the 
Evening  Transcript,  and  made  a  very  promising  begin- 
ning, but  was  finally  enlarged,  and  assumed  the  name 
of  the  Baltimore  Post,  being  partly  under  the  editorial 
charge  of  Thomas  Beach,  who  was  afterwards  con- 
nected with  the  daily  Sun,  The  Post  did  not  stand  as 
long  as  most  posts  usually  do,  though  it  was  a  spirited 
sheet  and  went  with  the  masses. 

The  well-known  Duif  Green  attempted  a  daily  paper 
in  Baltimore,  but  it  proved  a  failure.  He  was  a  keen 
politician,  but  rather  unfortunate  in  his  efforts  to 
induce  the  people  to  wear  the  harness  he  had  fash- 
ioned for  them. 

!E,  Horace  Pratt. 

E.  Horace  Pratt,  after  resigning  the  editorial  chair 
of  the  Bepublican,  associated  himself  with  me  in  the 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


27 


literary  department  of  the  Saturday  Visitor ;  and,  as  I 
am  furnishing  sketches  of  the  literary  characters  of  the 
day,  I  might  as  well  bring  him  into  this  part  of  my 
reminiscences.  He  was  a  good  practical  printer,  as 
well  as  a  writer  of  some  force.  A  number  of  the  late 
Baltimore  Dispatch  contained  the  following  notice  from 
my  own  pen  : 

"  1  claim  the  privilege  of  a  corner  in  your  journal, 
Messrs.  Editors,  for  the  purpose  of  redeeming  a  pledge 
made  some  years  ago  to  the  lamented  individual  whose 
name  heads  this  article.  We  were  seated  in  the  edi- 
torial sanctum  of  the  old  Saturday  morning  Visitor, 
which  paper  we  jointly  edited,  with  piles  of  exchanges 
on  either  side  of  us,  and  the  friendly  scissors  lying 
idle  on  the  table.  Our  daily  task  was  done  ;  the  paper 
had  gone  to  press,  and  we  were  jcongratulating  our- 
selves on  the  sensation  a  spicy  number  might  create 
among  its  numerous  readers,  when  our  conversation 
naturally  turned  on  poets  and  poetry — the  slender 
encouragement  extended  to  writers  by  the  'patrons' 
of  literature,  and  the  dim  prospect  of  one  or  two 
American  poets  having  a  niche  in  the  Temple  of  Fame. 
During  this  colloquy  we  pledged  each  other  that  he 
who  outlived  his  associate  should  write  the  obituary  of 
the  departed  one.  A  wise  and  merciful  Providence 
has  ordained  that  I  should  survive  my  friend,  for  poor 
Horace  expired  on  Thursday  evening  last,  in  the  48th 
year  of  his  age,  and  I  now  shall  endeavor  to  fulfil  my 
pledge. 

"Twenty-five  years'  acquaintance  with  the  departed 
ought  to  make  me  familiar  with  his  merits  as  well  as 
frailties.  He  was  a  friend  to  every  being  save  himself ; 
generous  to  a  fault,  trusting  and  forgiving.  His  po- 
litical notions  were  ultra,  though  he  was  always  a 
good  working  member  of  the  Democratic  party,  and 
edited  the  Rejpuhlican  with  some  degree  of  ability. 
But  his  forte  was  satire.  With  a  keen  wit  he  would 
assail  his  opponent,  and  almost  exterminate  him,  *  Ho 
was  a  fellow  of  infinite  jest,'  quick  at  repartee,  full  of 
anecdote,  and  apt  at  quotations.    In  fact,  the  festive 


28 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


board  were  but  a  dull  scene,  without  the  wit  and  song 
of  Horace.  As  a  poet  he  was  wanting  in  the  beau  ideal ; 
his  poems  were  smooth  and  flowing,  though  the  gems 
of  thought  were  rarely  found  sparkling  beneath  the 
unruffled  surface.  As  a  ballad-writer,  he  had  not  his 
equal  among  our  native  poets.  I  have  wedded  his 
ballads  to  music,  and  always  found  them  easy  of  adapta- 
tion and  pleasant  to  sing.  In  epigram  or  satirical 
verses  he  was  particularly  happy,  and  many  of  his  hits 
are  repeated  with  much  zest  at  the  present  day. 
Chivalrous  and  honorable,  he  was  never  known  to 
desert  a  friend,  or  even  to  take  advantage  of  an  enemy  ; 
for,  though  his  pen  was  caustic,  he  seemed  to  feel 
himself  the  wound  he  inflicted  on  others. 

"  His  life,  of  late,  appeared  to  be  a  blank  to  him. 
Desolation  reigned  around,  for  many  of  the  best  beloved 
of  his  family  had  gone  to  their  last  repose,  and  left  him 
comparatively  alone  in  the  world.  JNo  kind  friend  to 
smooth  down  his  pillow  of  sickness  or  gladden  his 
hours  of  loneliness.  He  was  a  solitary  man  ;  the  wit 
and  humor  of  his  younger  days  fled  when  the  cold 
finger  of  Time  began  to  trace  furrows  upon  his  brow. 
The  cheerful  smile  of  peace  no  longer  illumined  his 
features ;  the  warm  press  of  his  hand  was  no  longer 
felt,  and  he  passed  quietly  into  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
awaking.  '  Alas  1  poor  Yorick  1 '  One  by  one  they  are 
passing  away — the  choice  spirits  of  other  days.  Whose 
turn  next? 

THE  POET'S  GRAVE. 

His  grave  is  where  the  willow  weeps 

O'er  the  brook  that  wanders  by, 
Where  niglitshade  blooms,  where  echo  sleeps, 

And  zephyrs  faintly  sigh. 

His  dirge  swells  on  the  forest  breeze 

That  slowly  creeps  along, 
And  whispers  to  the  leafless  trees: 

"  Here  rests  the  child  of  song." 

His  epitaph  upon  the  sand 

Oblivion's  hand  may  trace; 
While  ocean  waves  leap  up  the  strand, 

And  every  word  efface. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


29 


The  sleeper  did  not  covet  fame; 

An  humble  poet's  lay 
Was  all  he  craved  to  wreathe  his  name 

When  he  had  passed  away. 

The  knell  is  rung,  the  dirge  is  sung, 

The  poet  calmly  sleeps; 
His  harp  hangs  lonely  and  unstrung, 

While  Friendship  o'er  it  weeps. 

George  P.  Morris. 

George  P.  Morris,  the  poet,  and,  in  connection  with 
N.  P.  Willis,  the  editor  of  the  New  York  Home  Journal, 
occasionally  wrote  for  the  Visitor,  and  corresponded 
privately.  We  had  been  associated  in  earlier  days,  and 
were  considered  the  ballad-writers  of  the  times ;  though 
I  had  somewhat  the  advantage  of  my  friend,  being  able 
to  wed  my  verses  to  music,  a  science  (or  art,  if  the 
reader  pleases)  which  the  Brigadier"  was  not  at  all 
versed  in,  though  remarkably  fond  of  the  "concord  of 
sweet  sounds."  The  great  popularity  of  Morris's  song 
of  "  Woodman,  spare  that  tree,"  was  mainly  attributed 
to  Henry  Eussell's  pirated  music,  and  the  peculiar 
manner  of  the  composer's  rendering  it  at  his  public 
concerts.  There  are  several  of  the  military  bard's 
ballads  which  have  been  highly  lauded,  thoughphey 
possess  but  very  common  merit.  I  instance,  in  defence 
of  the  position  I  have  taken,  the  songs  of  Near  the 
lake  where  droops  the  willow  "  and  "  Meeta."  The 
former  was  adapted  to  a  negro  refrain  and  beautifully 
harmonized  by  Charles  E.  Horn.  The  simplicity  of  the 
melody  tallied  with  the  words,  and  hence  its  popularity. 
The  song  of  Meeta  "  was  also  adapted  to  an^Ethiopian 
air.    It  contains  the  following  queer  line  : 

*'  Her  heart  and  morning  hrolce  together." 

However,  Morris  was  a  noble  fellow,  a  generous, 
open-hearted  friend,  and  an  industrious  and  pushing 
man.  He  tried  hard  to  be  an  honest  critic,  but^allowed 
his  own  judgment  to  be  biassed  by  others  who^^had  no 
reputation  to  lose. 


30  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

William  T.  Porter. 

William  T.  Porter,  former  editor  of  the  New  York 
hiptnt  of  the  Times,  was  also  an  occasional  contributor 
to  the  columns  of  the  Yisitor,  and  a  warm  ,  friend  of 
mme.  Many  a  joyous  hour  have  we  passed  together 
on  piscatorial  and  gunning  excursions.  Porter  was  the 
Isaac  Walton  of  the  age.  He  was  a  perfect  adept  at 
setting  a  fly  or  coaxing  a  trout;  and,  on  the  green  sea 
no  eye  more  sure  or  arm  more  strong  at  shark  or  por' 
poise  harpooning.  With  the  fowling-piece  he  was 
likewise  a  terror  to  the  feathered  tribe.    He  was  tall  ' 

S.c  t"1.V^'°"'*^1"^«n%'  a  great  pet  of  the 

ladies  particularly  Miss  Clifton,  the  noted  actress,  who 
figured  in  the  great  Forrest  divorce  case.  Porter  was 
a  racy  writer,  as  the  nature  of  his  journal  required  cor- 
rect reports  of  the  sports  of  the  turf,  the  ring,  the  stage, 
and  the  gun  and  angle.  He  wrote  in  a  style  that  suited 
his  readers,  and  the  Times  became  so  popular  all  over 
*^^^^o^»try  that  he  made  money,  took  to  drink  —  and 

William  H.  Thompson. 

While  editor  of  the  Baltimore  Clii>per  I  became 
acquainted  with  a  young  man  of  fine  literarv  talent 
who  contributed  several  well- written  articles  to  that 
paper.  He  seemed  to  be  desirous  of  obtainin*?  a  posi- 
tion in  some  newspaper  ofiice  as  an  aide  to  the  editor  in- 
chiei.  His  conception  of  matters  in  general  was  clear 
and  well  grounded,  and  he  was  well  cut  out  for  a  iour- 
nahst  of  the  first  water.  The  well-known  John  B.  Owens 
at  that  time  had  control  of  the  Baltimore  Museum 
which  was  rather  a  popular  resort  for  the  friends  of  the 
drama,  with  a  little  sprinkling  of  good,  moral  people 
who  suffered  under  no  compunctions  of  conscience  in 
witnessing  a  play  when  it  was  performed  in  a  buildino- 
where  curiosUies  were  to  be  seen.  Thompson  had 
written  a  humorous  farce,  and  wished  it  to  be  brought 
before  the  public.  He  said  the  idea  of  the  plot  struck 
him  on  passing  along  Gay  street  early  one  morning  and 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


31 


witnessing  the  exertions  of  an  Irishman  in  his  efforts  to 
roll  a  wooden  Indian  out  of  a  tobacconist'-s  store  and 
place  it  in  its  usual  position  near  the  entrance.  The 
farce  was  entitled  the  "Live  Indian."  I  referred  him 
to  Owens,  after  having  read  the  manuscript  and  com- 
plimented him  on  his  abilities  as  a  dramatist.  The 
manager  accepted  the  play,  and,  reserving  for  himself 
the  most  striking  part,  that  of  the  used-up  actor,  had 
it  mounted  which,  in  theatrical  parlance,  means 
placed  upon  the  stage.  It  proved  a  great  success,  and 
Owens  has  made  a  fortune  out  of  it,  though  the  real 
author's  name  was  but  little  known  to  the  pubhc. 

Colonel  Thompson  turned  his  face  southward  ;  settled 
in  Savannah,  Ga,,  wrote  that  everlastingly  popular  book 
entitled  Major  Jones'  Courtship,"  and  is  now  the  con^^ 
trolling  editor  of  the  Savannah  News.  He  is  a  man  of 
superior  talent,  a  ripe  scholar  and  a  genial  companion. 
His  paper  is  one  of  the  leading  journals  of  the  South  ; 
its  proprietoi;  is  H.  Estill,  Esq.,  a  man  of  perseverance 
and  enterprise. 

James  B.  Kandall. 

I  fear  I  am  abandoning  my  first-conceived  idea  of  tra- 
cing the  "Shadows  on  the  Wall,"  when  I  approach  so 
near  the  present  period,  in  mentioning  the  name  of  the 
author  of  Maryland,  my  Maryland,"  and  "  There's  life 
in  the  old  land  yet."  James  E.  Randall  is  the  son  of 
our  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  John  K.  Randall,  for  many 
years  known  as  a  prominent  merchant  of  this  city.  In 
early  youth  he  displayed  a  great  fondness  for  literature, 
and  was  so  prone  to  sweep  the  strings  of  his  tuneful 
lyre,  that  his  father,  who  is  a  practical  business  man, 
had  to  abandon  the  cherished  idea  of  training  him  up 
to  the  study  of  wharf-rats  and  spider-webs  in  a  dmgy 
counting-room  somewhere  in  the  vicinage  of  our  sweet- 
scented  Basin.  Young  Randall  was  an  enthusiast ;  he 
burned  to  write  his  name  among  the  stars  ;  so,  when 
the  reveille-drum  of  the  South  beat  to  arms,  he  doffed 
his  beaver  to  the  marble  effigy  of  the  immortal  "  Father 
of  his  country,"  and  the  other  small  memorials  that 


32  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

Sdm-  JrS'^^'T'  ^"If  ""'^  ^  ^^'^-'''^^  Di^i^.  Of 
araoi  and  btates-rights. 

The  delicacy  of  his  constitution  prevented  his  takinsr 
an  active  position  in  the  army  ;  so'  he  used  his  pen  "f 
iipholdmg  the  "  lost  cause."    He  wrote  for  the  io™ Is 
brought  out  songs  that  rang  in  the  public  haVs  the 

HTvL'wm"rn'  ^n'^-^^'"-  ^^'tLA^mrod,  Pa"  1  h! 
Mr  r«lt   «        '"?°'"f  Pike,  Ee;.  John  C. 

McCabe   Susan  Archer  Tulley,  Mary  J.  Upshur  and 

worn'siie^s^'  "tT  ^^^^^  of  ?he  b^tt^e 
worn  soldiers.  1  have  heard  his  "Marvland  "  suno-  with 
stunning  effect  by  upwards  of  five  thois'and  men.^  T^e 
Mag'Ianders,in  particular,  claimed  it  as  their  battle! 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  Mr.  Eandall  took  char<.e 
of  the  Augusta  (Ga.)  Canaitutionalia,       old  iouJnal 

con'dSts'lV"''"^!?"^"'^'"  eontiCs  ^o 

conduct  Its  literary  dei^artment.    The  Southern  atmo- 
sphere seems  to  agree  with  him;  for,  from  the 
featured  and  dehcately  built  young'man,  he  has  become 
the  portly  gentleman,  full  of  life,  bSt  con  iderablv  tam^d 
down  by  the  issue  of  the  contest.  ' 

Xeander  Streeter. 

There  are  a  few  of  my  Baltimore  and  Richmond 
readers  who  may  recollect  a  dapper  little  dealer  in  gen 
tlemen's  wear  who  kept  a  store  on  Baltimore  stS 
well  furnished  with  undergarments  belonginc.  to  the 

tt t  "'^H  Pr'^^^J^"-    Ho  waf  on^e  of  the 

bisLs«?ntr?'''''''^         "gentlemen's  furnishing" 

ke  J  ;i!t^'™''  shrewdness  af  d 

wit— kept  customers  away.  One  unlucky  nio-ht 
tongue  of  the  fieiy  demoniicked  up  his  eltL  tock^n! 
trade;  and  what  the  flames  did  not  lick  up  the  wate?- 
fiend  sipped  up,  and  so  soiled  that  no  gentleman  would 
wear  "gents'  wear."  He  had  a  lawsuit  with  the  Fire 
Insurance  Company  he  patronized,  who  refused  to  settle 
h  s  cla,ni  for  damages  sustained.  The  Insurance  Com! 
pany  being  the  moneyed  party,  of  course  nonsuited 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


33 


Streeter;  and,  as  lawyers  generally  swallow  the  oyster 
and  give  their  clients  the  shell,  the  poor  fellow  had  to 
whistle  for  that  which  woald  not  come  at  his  call. 
Streeter  packed  his  carpet-bag,  mostly  with  damaged 
goods,  and  took  the  earliest  train  for  the  city  of  the 
seven  hills,  Eichmond  ;  where,  being  aflicted  with  the 
cacoethes  scribendi,  he  started  a  daily  paper  and  called  it 
the  Eichmond  Star.    Being  a  good  business  man,  and  a 
wag  withal,  his  racy  little  sheet  soon  became  popular. 
Desirous  of  achieving  a  notoriety,  he  commenced  a  sham 
fight  with  the  Clipper,  which  I  conducted  at  the  time. 
The  lightning-flashes  of  wit  darted  merrily  between  the 
two  cities,  and  for  more  than  a  year  there  was  a  con- 
tinuous fusillade  kept  up,  which  caused  the  contending 
papers  to  be  sought  after  by  the  curious,  if  not  the  dig- 
nified.   Jeux  d'esprit,  satires,  puns,  bon-mots  and  sharp 
repartees  ran  mad.    The  military  title  of  "  Corporal " 
clings  to  Streeter  to  this  day ;  while  my  princely  nose 
will  never  cease  growing  or  lose  its  crimson  splendor. 
On  one  occasion  he  announced  my  contemplated  trip  to 
Eichmond  by  informing  his  readers  that  my  body  would 
occupy  one  railroad  car  and  my  nose  the  one  preceding. 
A  military  reception  was  to  be  given  by  the  "Star 
Brigade,"  composed  of  the  corporal  commandant,  press- 
gang,  and  printer's  devil,  supported  by  the  "chain- 
gang  "  and  a  battery  of  city  garbage-carts ! 

Streeter's  Star  shone  brilliantly  for  a  few  years,  and 
then,  like  the  lost  of  the  Pleiades,  dropped  from  the 
burning  cluster  forever.  He  was  a  rare  wag,  but  rather 
too  caustic  for  a  Southern  atmosphere.  A  severe  phil- 
ippic having  appeared  in  his  columns,  the  offended  party 
sought  revenge  in  a  most  cowardly  manner,  by  throwing 
snuff  into  his  eyes  and  then  attempting  to  use  the  cow- 
hide. He  was,  however,  rescued  by  friends,  and  soon 
after  the  event  left  Eichmond  and  returned  to  his  home 
in  New  England. 

Colonel  Samuel  Sands  Mills. 

The  present  Sheriff  of  Baltimore  (1876)  was  born  in 
2* 


34  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

•  His  parents  were  of  the  old  Maryland 
stock  and  he  received  his  education  at  the  public  schools. 
slt.?c5  ^^"'^'^  '^^  apprenticed  to 

fvZ  lt  r"'""'  ^J^O'^hen  a  boy,  set  the  type 

SnT  f^V'^'"'',   ^fPy  °f  S.  Key's  "Star- 

Spangled  Banner."  In  the  course  of  time  he  became 
the  partner  of  his  uncle,  Mr.  Sands,  and,  conjoint^  wUh 
fi  •rt'cir«™'"''^!'''  publication  of  the  Rural  RegUterX 

fsBue^nH.T''"'*;"''^',^""™^''  ^^^"^  continued  to 
issue  until  the  sectional  war  broke  out.  Previous  how- 
Mr  V«ndf"'''?.'"^  the  i^,^,,,,,,  he  was  connected  wifh 
Ml.  Sands  in  the  publication  of  the  American  Farmer 
once  famous  throughout  the  United  States.  AboutTe 
breaking  out  of  the  war,  he  published,  on  his  own 
responsibility,  The  South,  an  evening  daily.    Its  7ol 

Sze'd  and"^  e^'T'  GofernmLt ;  H  was 

seized  and  the  Colonel  imprisoned  in  Fort  McHenry 
^e  had  to  commence  the  world  anew;  went  to  Wash- 
ington City  and  there  worked  as  journeyman  printer. 
He  returned,  however,  to  his  native  city,  opened  a  job 

tCJ^/f 'f'.^""'^'  Whitm^n.^estabHsied 
the  Maryland  Farmer,^  Bts.x.d2.vd  agriculturkl  work  still 
flourishing  In  1848  he  was- chosen  President  of  the 
Baltimore  Typographical  Union.    He  is  a  fine  orator 

dent r?.f^WMl  ''^^''^'"^  *°  ^^^'^^^  ^  ^"'ogy  on  the 

thp  Wnl-  a  grand  banquet  of 

ir^lT  Typographical  Society  he  delivered  a 

Webs?;.^"r  ""T  complimented  by  such  men  as  Benton, 
f  ur  l'         ley,  Eitchie,  and  Holmes.    In  1858  he 
established  the  "Association  for  the  Belief  of  Unem- 
ployed Mechanics  and  Working-men."    To  further  this 
object  he  got  the  City  Councillto  appropriate  $25,000  to 
the  improvement  of  Druid  Hill  Pak,  and  thus  many 
workmen  were  employed.  •' 
Col.  Mills  identified  himself  with  the  military  when 
quite  young.    While  in  the  ranks  of  the  Independent 
-Blues,  he  took  an  active  part  in  the  suppression  of  the 
John  Brown  raid  on  Harper's  Perry.    Under  Colonel 
Augustus  P  Shutt  he  assisted  in  quelling  the  riot  on 
the  line  of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Eailroad.    He  was 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


35 


Professor  of  Military  Tactics  at  the  Bal  imore  Hi^h 
School  He,  at  present,  commands  Comp my  D,  Fifth 
Eegiment,  M.  Gr.  He  was  also  an  active  fireman, 
and  for  some  years  represented  the  old  Friendship  Fire 
Company  in  the  United  Fire  Department.  He  has  been 
for  many  years  an  active  member  of  the  Maryland  In- 
stitute. He  is  a  prominent  member  of  the  Order  of  Free 
and  Accepted  Masons,  the  Odd  Fellows,  the  Independent 
Order  of  Mechanics,  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Eagle, 
the  Knights  of  Pythias,  the  Schuetzen  Association,  and 
the  Germania  MM,nnerchor.  He  was  one  of  the  original 
founders  of  the  Baltimore  Lyceum,  from  which  some  of 
the  most  prominent  citizens  graduated,  among  whom 
were  Charles  Webb,  Hugh  Sisson,  John  Carson,  John  H. 
Ing,  Henry  Stockbridge,  John  W.  Davis,  W.  G.  Geckler, 
W.  H.  B.  "Fusselbaugh,  John  E.  Cox,  and  others.  Col. 
Mills  originated  the  Mechanics  and  Apprentices  Library, 
and  was  also  a  member  of  the  old  Murray  Institute.  In 
1867  he  took  an  active  part  in  the  reorganization  of  the 
Maryland  State  Agricultural  Association.  Its  present 
officers  are  Wm.  H.  Perot,  President ;  Wm.  B.  Sands, 
Eecording  Secretary;  John  Feast,  Corresponding  Sec- 
retary, and  E.  W.  L.  Easin,  Treasurer. 

CoL  Mills  was  a  member  of  the  City  Council  from  the 
Seventh  Ward  for  four  consecutive  years.  During  the 
Mexican  war,  years  1846-7-8,  he  was  sent  to  Monterey 
to  exhume  and  bring  home  the  remains  of  Col.  William 
H.  Watson,  a  mission  which  he  performed  handsomely. 
He  also  brought  the  bodies  of  Capt.  Eidgely,  Herman 
Thomas,  of  Harford  county,  and  George  Pierson,  of 
Baltimore. 

In  person,  Col.  Mills  may  be  considered  a  handsome 
man,  strongly  built,  active  and  ready  for  business.  He 
is  genial  in  disposition,  urbane  in  manners,  with  sufficient 
dignity  to  make  him  respected  by  all,  whether  friend 
or  stranger.  After  two  efforts  (the  first  Oj)posing 
Augustus  Albert)  he  was  recently  elected  Sheriff  by  a 
flattering  majority,  running  far  beyond  his  ticket. 


36 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


Colonel  Frederick  Kaine. 

I  have  known  Frederick  Eaine  almost  from  the  days 
of  his  boyhood,  and  never  found  him  wanting  in  those 
qualities  of  manners,  disposition  and  bearing  which 
make  up  the  gentleman.    In  his  early  days  he  displayed 
a  remarkable  fondness  for  music  and  the  fine  arts 
generally.    He  possessed  excellent  business  qualifica- 
tions, was  a  neat  lecturer  both  in  German  and  English, 
and  a  critic  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word.    In  1840  he 
founded  the  German  Correspondent,  and  has  for  a  period 
of  thirty-six  years  been  its  proprietor  and  editor-in- 
chief.    At  the  beginning  of  the  Correspondent's  career, 
It  was  issued  weekly  with  but  eighty  subscribers;  but 
this  skeleton  of  a  list  did  not  discourage  the  young 
adventurer.    He  with  prudence  and  energy  pushed  the 
work  on  ;  and  in  1848  it  became  a  daily,  and  exercised 
vast  control  over  the  German  population.    The  splendid 
marble  building  on  the  south-west  corner  of  Baltimore 
street  and  Post-ofiice  avenue  was  raised  by  Col.  Eaine 
at  a  cost  of  $200,000 ;  and,  after  its  completion,  the 
Correspondent  was  issued  regularly  every  morning  from 
that  magnificent  edifice.     It  is  a  great  advertising 
medium,  and  almost  every  German  in  the  city  and  State 
looks  to  it  as  the  exponent  of  his  sentiments  and 
wants.    In  manners  Col.  Eaine  is  polite  and  alfable  ;  in 
person  rather  corpulent,  but  handsome.    He  is  a  man 
of  exquisite  taste,  a  fair  writer,  and  a  politician  who  is 
apt  to  be  on  the  wrong  side  sometimes. 


The  Gazette. 

^  In  February,  1858,  a  spirited  daily  journal  bearing  the 
title  of  the  Daily  Exchange  was  begun  in  Baltimore. 
It  took  a  bold  stand  against  political  abuses ;  and,  of 
course,  attracted  attention.  In  1861  this  journal  was 
suppressed  by  the  Government,  being  too  much  tainted 
with  the  rebel  doctrines.  It,  however,  promptly  ap- 
peared again  under  the  name  of  the  Maryland  News 
Sheet,  under  which  title  it  was  published  until  hostili- 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


37 


ties  ended  in  1865  ;  when  it  came  out  in  a  new  dress, 
and  under  the  title  of  the  Baltimore  Gazette.  Mr. 
Charles  J.  Baker,  a  gentleman  of  wealth  and  enterprise, 
united  himself  with  Messrs.  Welsh  &  Carpenter,  and 
the  paper  took  a  position  as  the  organ  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party.  At  one  time  it  took  the  quarto  form,  and 
was  noted  for  its  bold  and  outspoken  language.  Mr. 
Baker  is  now  sole  proprietor;  the  paper  is  reduced  in 
size,  but  not  in  power;  and  the  energy  and  tact  of  the 
owner  will  not  fail  to  establish  it  on  a  firm  footing. 

A.  S.  Abell. 

Mr.  A.  S.  Abell,  the  original  founder  and  proprietor 
of  the  Daily  Sun,  is  a  man  of  pleasant  manners  and 
social  proclivities.  He  came  to  Baltimore  in  1837, 
ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  purchaser  for 
a  steam-press,  the  property  of  the  Philadelphia  Ledger. 
In  order  to  bring  about  a  quick  sale,  he,  in  conjunction 
with  Mr.  Simmons  (since  dead),  established  a  small 
penny  paper  on  Light  street,  entitled  the  Sun;  this 
little  affair  was  to  be  sold  with  the  press,  for  which 
$2500  were  asked.  The  paper  met  with  a  ready  cir- 
culation ;  the  local  news  was  spicy ;  the  magistrates' 
courts  were  visited  by  industrious  reporters;  as  an 
important  item  of  home  intelligence^  the  names  of  the 
"  watch-house  birds  "  were  given.  The  notorious  and 
everlasting  John  Smith's  drunken  frolics  became  known 
to  the  public ;  the  indomitable  Jesse  Eead  rooted  around 
in  every  nook  and  corner  for  an  item  to  add  to  the 
morning's  hodge-podge.  So  the  Sun  obtained  a  firm 
foothold.  Its  quarters  were  changed  to  the  south-east 
corner  of  Baltimore  and  Gay  streets.  It  went  on  suc- 
ceeding, notwithstanding  the  paper  round  and  double- 
headed  shot  discharged  at  it  by  the  trim  Clipper 
anchored  over  the  way.  The  burnishers-up  of  the 
rising  luminary  were  right.  They  did  not  notice  its 
rival ;  it  would  not  do  to  advertise  the  junior  concern  ;  a 
reply  would  give  it  notoriety  ;  that  would  never  do  !  ^ 
The  Sun  was  not  the  first  cheap  paper  started  in 


•"^S  SHADOWS  ON  rilE  WALL; 

Baltimore,  as  I  have  shown  in  the  beirinninir  It  cer 
tainly  has  c  aim  to  being  the  first  slccessful  one  it 

TropjlrTif  ^'^^^  enterprising 

proprietor  had  to  move  it  into  more  spacious  quarters 

strn.hT    ^''Tk  '  ^'••^•^  t'^^  magnificent  iron 

its  rival  th^       '"'"'^  «f  ^=^ltimore  and  South  stree?^ 

Of  rreti;Tot7nl!^^  - 

The  New  American  Building. 

Rnf  p''-^'"^'*'^  ^w«n<;a«  no  obstacle  will  shun 

But  boldly  runs  ts  columm  up  above  the  dai"y  Sun  ■ 

Wh.ch  of  the  two  aspiring  sheets  will  make  its  way  to  heaven  ? 

disf  CttsHn? 'Ph  ^f't™d«  ^  P'-eacher  of  the  Metho- 
witer  not  forcible 

I  f     A       ''^^^  metaphysical,  and  fore- 

shadowed  a  serious  bent  of  mind.  In  person  he  was 
rather  prepossessing;  aff-able  in  manners.Ssfightly  fn- 

tiequently  gave  a  check  to  momentary  levity  His 
K-^^-Tp''!?'^  mediocre.  He  became"^  editoi^  of  The 
f^ffdist  Protestant  and  continued  in  that  position  to 
the  day  of  h.s  death,  which  was  brought  about  by  his 
JsTl  nt'T  ^'''^"'^  ^-^^  tt.e  revolJtio^n  in 
Jufogium.  ''''  ^  ^•^''j^^*^  of 

Charles  C.  Fulton. 

istf  of  "Uh^"''''*-^".'!" ^"'i  successful  journal- 
IhTs  ai-ti^le  t'^^.g^'^t'e'^an  whose  name  heads 

tills  aiticle.  He  ,s  now  in  the  "sere  and  yellow  leaf  " 
?nn  of'.  '  """"^  pronounced  a  hale  and  hear^^  man 
e?ec?ed  bv¥m"'^  activity.  The  splendid  iron  building 
and  South  «r  T  ^OMth-M  corner  of  Baitimort 
and  South  streets  stands  a  lasting  monument  of  his 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


39 


enterprise.  He  purchased  the  American  shortly  after 
the  demise  of  Mr.  Dobbin,  the  only  remaining  partner 
of  the  firm  of  Murphy,  Dobbin  &  Bose.  This  journal 
(the  oldest  in  Baltimore)  was  established  in  1773  by  a 
Mr.  William  Goddard,  under  the  title  of  the  Maryland 
Journal  and  Baltimore  Advertiser.  In  1798  the  title 
head  was  changed  to  the  American  and  Daily  Advertiser  ; 
and  in  the  year  1820  it  was  again  changed  to  the  Balti- 
more American  and  Commercial  Advertiser.  Mr.  Fulton 
took  charge  of  it  in  1835  ;  and,  being  an  experienced 
journalist  and  a  very  ready  writer,  he  wisely  catered  to 
the  wants  of  the  great  lever  of  a  rising  city,  the  com- 
mercial interests.  Its  summary  of  news  has  always 
been  noted  for  the  able  manner  in  which  it  was  each 
morning  spread  before  the  public  ;  its  market  reports 
and  prices-current  have  always  been  the  oracles  of  the 
merchant  and  trader,  and  it  is,  and  always  has  been, 
the  commercial  paper  of  this  city.  Its  financial  con- 
cerns since  the  year  1869  have  been  handsomely  man- 
aged, and  show  plainly  that  the  venerable  journal,  in 
keeping  pace  with  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  city,  has 
rejuvenated  itself. 

The  Saturday  Morning  Visitor  and  its  Contributors. 

The  Saturday  morning  Visitor  was  started  in  the 
year  1831.  Mr.  Charles  F.  Cloud,  then  publishing  the 
Elkton  Press,  Cecil  county,  Md.,  made  up  his  mind  to 
establish  a  literary  journal  and  newspaper  in  Balti- 
more, notwithstanding  the  ill-success  of  the  ephemeral 
works  that  had  preceded  it.  He  secured  a  lease  for 
three  years  on  the  building  at  the  south-east  corner  of 
Gay  and  Baltimore  streets,  where,  February  4th,  1832, 
the  first  number  of  his  paper  was  issued,  being  a  large 
and  excellently  printed  sheet.  He  associated  with  him 
in  the  enterprise  Lambert  A.  Wilmer.  The  Visitor  was 
favorably  received,  and  its  list  of  subscribers  increased 
gradually  up  to  a  large  circulation.  At  the  end  of 
1832,  Wilmer  withdrew  from  the  concern.  Mr.  Cloud 
then  entered  into  a  co-partnership  with  Mr.  William  P. 


40  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

Pouder  a  man  of  good  business  qualifications,  but 
afflicted  with  a  weak  constitution  and  continued  ill 
hea  th.  Charles  F.  Cloud  is  living  at  the  present 
writing,  hale  and  hearty.  He  was,  and  still  is,  a  very 
popular  nian  with  the  masses,  and  was  elected  by  a 
very  handsome  majority  to  the  office  of  Sheriff  I 
oniTf%^^  bas  occupied  other  public  positions  since; 
one  ot  them  School  Commissioner. 

There  are  many  literary  characters  now  living,  who 
achieved  a  reputation  in  the  world  of  letters  throusrh 
the  columns  of  this  journal.  Their  budding  genius  first 
developed  Itself  through  its  kind  fosterinf.  It  was 
established  shortly  after  the  demise  of  the  Minerva 
i  was  engaged  to  take  charge  of  the  literary  depart- 
ment immediately  on  the  discharge  of  Wilmer,  who  I 
be  leve,  obtained  a  position  in  the  office  of  the  Phila- 
delphia Sunday  Mercury,  to  measure  poetry  as  he  would 
tape  and  judge  of  its  quality  as  a  ganger  would  the 
proof  of  whiskey.  It  was  issued  weekly,  and  intended 
lora  family  journal,  as  announced  in  the  prospectus. 
Another  effort  to  induce  Ealtimoreans  to  encourage 
a  literary  periodical  of  their  own ;  and  one,  too,  thit 
met  with  no  more  success  than  its  predecessors.  T 
brought  with  me  a  number  of  aspirants  for  literary 
honors  ;  these  contributors  I  shall  endeavor  to  sketch. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe, 

Who  began  to  flourish  about  this  time,  was  a  thin 
spare  young  man ;  pale  featured,  rather  handsome,  a 
fine  eye,  and  high,  intellectual  forehead.  He  was  a  son 
ot  a  Mr.  Poe,  at  one  time  a  lawyer  practising  at  the 
Baltimore  bar;  but  who,  having  married  an  actress, 
became  himself  a  treader  of  the  boards.  His  parents 
dying  in  poverty  Edgar  was  taken  charge  of  by  one 
Mr.  Allan  of  Richmond,  Va.,  a  gentlemaS  of  wealth, 
who  had  him  educated  both  in  this  country  and  Europe. 
Ihe  boy  displayed  extraordinary  talent,  which  began 
to  develop  Itself  at  an  early  period;  but  the  generous 
indulgence  of  his  foster-father  spoiled  him,  and  his 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


41 


vicious  habits  were  pandered  to  and  nourished  with  a 
lavish  hand.  , 
1  feel  it  my  duty  here  to  draw  a  veil  over  i  oe  s 
career;  and  though  I  have  been  frequently  called  upon 
by  book-wrights  to  state  what  I  know  of  him,  yet  I 
have  always  been  guarded  in  my  language,  and  placed 
no  reliance  in  common  report.  The  poet  and  scholar 
having  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  benefactor,  was 
cast  out  upon  the  world  to  seek  a  living  as  best  he 
could.  His  literary  acquirements  were  of  little  profit 
to  him,  for  he  had  not  then  produced  the  "Kaven,"  and 
was  comparatively  unknown ;  as  he  was  almost  up  to 
the  day  of  his  death.  He  was  of  too  excitable  a  nature 
to  become  a  teacher,  and,  in  fact,  too  proud  to  assume 
the  position  of  an  autocrat  of  the  birchen  rod. 

He  visited  Baltimore,  where  he  had  some  highly 
respectable  relatives,  and,  as  a  kind  of  feeler,  published 
a  small  volume  of  poems,  bearing  the  title  of  "Al 
Aaraaf,  Tamerlane,  and  Minor  Poems,"  wherein  his  wild 
and  wayward  imagery  was  given  full  bridle  to.  This 
volume  was  severely  criticized  by  the  Minerva,  the 
editor  not  knowing  the  author;  and  to  the  day  of  his 
death,  Poe  exhibited  the  utmost  dislike  for  me;  at  one 
time  carrying  his  vindictiveness  so  far  as  to  assail  me 
on  a  public  thoroughfare,  though  nothing  serious  re- 
sulted from  the  encounter. 

There  was  something  quite  original  about  Al 
Aaraaf,  Tamerlane,  and  Minor  Poems."  The  book  was 
a  literary  curiosity,  full  of  burning  thoughts,  which^  so 
charmed  the  reader  that  he  forgot  he  was  travelling 
over  a  pile  of  brick-bats— so  uneven  and  irregular  was 
the  rhythm. 

It  is  said  that  poetry  is  the  gift  of  nature  ;  if  so,  she 
hesitated  in  imparting  to  the  author  of  "  Al  Aaraaf" 
that  portion  of  inspiration  essential  to  the  formation  of 
a  poet  of  mediocre  talents.  Poe  was  not  the  poet  he 
was  said  to  be;  he  added  but  little  to  the  literary 
reputation  of  our  country.  His  **Eaven,"to  be  sure, 
gained  him  vast  renown  (particularly  after  he  had 
rested  in  the  grave  for  nearly  26  years  !) ;  but  the  idea 


42  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

was  not  original— it  was  taken  from  the  old  Endish 
poets.  The  '^Manuscript  Found  in  a  Bottle,"  a  com- 
position which  won  several  prizes,  was  only  a  new 
version  of  the  "Ehyme  of  an  Ancient  Mariner," 

"  Al  Aaraaf,"  the  leading  poem  of  Poe's  first  Volume 
seems  to  have  no  particular  object  in  view.  With  all 
my  brain-cudgeiling,  Icould  not  compel  myself  to  under- 
stand hne  by  line,  or  the  sum  total.  Perhaps  it  alludes 
to  the  text  which  says:— A  star  was  discovered  by 
lycho  Brahe,  which  burst  forth  in  a  moment,  with 
splendor  surpassing  that  of  Jupiter;  then  gradually 
laded  away,  and  became  invisible  to  the  naked  eye  " 
in  one  sense  an  apt  quotation,  indicative  of  the  transi- 
tory glory  of  the  poems  that  follow. 

To  show  the  originality  of  Poe's  conceptions,  I  will 
quote  a  few  passages.  In  one  of  the  poems  we  have 
the  color  of  smell  in  the  following  line  ; 

*'And  thy  most  lovely  purple  perfume,  Zante." 

Again,  we  learn  that  sound  has  form  and  body  from 
the  fact  of  its  throwing  out  a  shadow  :  ' 

"  Flap  shadowy  sounds  from  visionary  wings." 

Concerning  the  various  hues  of  the  atmosphere  wo 
have  lived  to  learn  that  the  decomposition  of  blue  will 
produce  almost  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  ; 

*|And  red  winds  were  withering  in  the  sky." 
"With  all  thy  train  athwart  the  moony  sky." 
^|Up  rose  the  maiden  in  the  yelhw  night." 
"Of  molten  stars  their  pavement,  such  as  fell 

Through  the  ebon  air.'* 
"A  window  of  one  circular  diamond,  there 

Looked  out  upon  the  purple  air." 
Witness  the  murmur  of  the  gray  twilight." 

Poe  deserved  a  premium  for  the  invention  of  rhymes 
Witness  the  following: 

"'Till  thy  glance  through  the  shade,  and 
Come  down  from  your  brow, 
Like  the  eyes  of  the  maiden 
Who  calls  on  thee  now." 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST,  43 
The  following  stanza  contains  quite  a  curious  thought: 

Now  that  the  grass— O,  may  it  thrive ! 

On  my  grave  is  growing  and  grown, 
But  that,  while  I  am  dead  yet  alive, 

I  can  not  be,  lady,  alone." 

The  dead-alive  is  certainly  a  novel  idea.  If  '/Al 
Aaraaf,  Tamerlane,  and  Minor  Poems  "  possess  sufficient 
merit  to  iustify  the  erection  of  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  I  know  many  a  poet  of 
sensation  periodicals  who  can  put  in  a  much  stronger 
claim  to  an  epitaph  not    writ  on  sand." 

But  he  is  dead— let  his  faults  perish  with  him.  Our 
last  meeting  was  in  Washington  City;  he  was  then  poor 
and  almost  friendless,  and  I  extended  to  him  the  hand 
of  friendship,  partially  relieved  his  wants,  and  parted 
with  him  on  amicable  terms.  He  was  for  a  short  period 
the  editor  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  a  monthly 
publication  published  in  Richmond,  and  came  very  near 
ruining  the  reputation  of  that  work  by  the  bitterness 
of  his  articles  and  the  vindictiveness  with  which  he 
assailed  the  reputations  of  all  who  chanced  to  fall  under 
his  displeasure.^ 

Professor  Nathanial  H  Thayer. 

Among  the  numerous  writers  for  the  Yisitor,  during 
its  palmy  days,  was  i^athanial  H.  Thayer,  the  present 
Principal  of  the  Eastern  Female  High  School  of  Balti- 
more I  have  known  him  since  the  early  days  of  boy- 
hood'; even  as  far  back  as  the  days  of  schooldom,  for 
we  trembled  under  the  rod  of  the  same  schoolmaster, 
and  snivelled  over  our  primer  in  the  same  class.  We 
are  both  in  the  winter  of  life  now;  but  the  memories  of 
the  past  are  still  fresh  and  green.  .  oa^t  i 

Mr  Thayer  was  born  in  Boston  in  the  year  1807,  and 
is  consequently  now  (1876)  in  his  69th  year.  Of  the 
eight  children  of  old  Captain  Thayer,  a  merchant  and 
most  worthy  man,  the  only  two  now  living  are  IN  athanial 

*See  Appeidix. 


^  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

and  Thatcher;  the  latter  was  educated  at  Tale,  and  has 
iad  charge  of  the  Second  Congregationalist  Church  in 
JNewport,  E.  I.,  for  many  years.    The  subject  of  this 
article  attended  the  Public  Latin  School  in  Boston  at 
the  same  time  with  Wat  Willis,  who  wrote  as  good  poetry 
then  as  he  did  in  his  more  mature  age.    Thayer's  father 
intended  him  for  a  mercantile  life,  and  he  was  placed  in 
a  store,  where  he  remained  two  or  three  years.  He 
however,  altered  his  purpose,  and  took  quarters  in 
-t-hi  lips  Academy,  Andover,  from  whence  he  went  to 
Amherst  College,  and  at  the  end  of  his  studies  was  com- 
plimented with  the  degree  of  A.  M.    He  came  to  the 
bouth  in  1829,  and  took  the  position  of  private  tutor  in 
the  tamily  of  Gov.  Samuel  Stevens,  then  residing  on  the 
^.astern  Shore  of  Maryland.    Prom  thence  he  went  to 
ilent  county,  and  then  became  a  teacher  in  the  Keisters- 
town  Academy,  at  that  time  under  the  charge  of  Mr 
-Nathan  C.  Brooks.    From  Eeisterstown  he  settled  iii 
Westminster,  Carroll  county,  and  there  married  a  sister 
ot  the  Hon.  Judge  Hayden.    After  taking  charge  of  the 
Manchester  Academy,  he  succeeded  Mr.  Brooks  as  Prin- 
cipal of  Eeisterstown  School,  which  became  quite  a 
popular  institution.    While  at  this  school  he  had  the 
gratification  of  enlightening  the  quick  intellect  of  one 
of  his  most  merkorious  pupils,  Dr.  W.  C.  Van  Bibber, 
of  Baltimore.    Por  seven  years  he  had  the  control  of 
the  chartered  Academy  at  Abingdon,  Harford  county. 
Among  the  best  pupils  of  this  school  was  Prof.  James 
Webster,  who  for  several  years  has  held,  with  much 
credit  to  himself,  a  Professorship  in  the  Baltimore  City 
College.    On  the  conclusion  of  his  duties  at  Abingdon 
he  came  to  Baltimore  and  entered  the  Eastern  Female 
High  School  as  an  assistant.    Here  he  has  remained 
ever  since,  through  good  and  evil  report. 

On  the  retirement  of  his  predecessor,  he  was  elected 
Principal    This  occurred  in  February,  1850.  His  course 
during  these  twenty-six  years  has  been  steady  and 
straightforward.    He  has  given  universal  satisfaction 
and  has  always  been  loved  and  respected  by  his  pupils 
-tuliy  aware  of  the  responsibility  of  his  position,  he  has 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST, 


45 


looked  to  the  moral  as  well  as  intellectual  culture  of  the 
young  ladies  under  his  charge.  Never  petulant  and 
stern,  but  always  positive,  he  has  succeeded  in  sending 
out  from  his  school,  to  fight  the  battle  of  life,  many  ot 
our  best  and  most  accomplished  females. 

Mr.  Thayer  is  far  from  being  a  forward  man ;  the 
2)ms5  *that  lifts  pretenders  up  to  exalted  positions  is  not 
an  element  of  his  composition.  He  has  been  but  little 
connected  with  politics  or  public  institutions  out  of  his 
line.  While  residing  in  Manchester  he  was  solicited  to 
become  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature,  but  declined. 
During  the  late  war  he  was  likewise  requested  to  run 
for  the  City  Council,  and  refused.  Such  positions  were 
incompatible  with  the  loved  profession  to  which  alone 
he  devoted  his  energies.  The  only  institution,  because 
of  its  kindred  character,  he  has  ever  been  publicly  asso- 
ciated with,  is  the  Maryland  Institute.  Of  this  he  has 
been  Corresponding  Secretary  many  years.  In  polite 
literature,  Mr.  Thayer  holds  a  fair  standing;  he  might 
have  become  eminent,  had  he  attended  to  it  more. 

Fanny  "Wright. 

Among  the  occasional  contributors  to  the  columns  of 
the  Minerva  was  the  celebrated  Miss  Prances  Wright. 
She  "was  quite  in  the  ascendancy  at  the  time.  She 
lectured  in  Baltimore,  and  I  became  acquainted  with 
her  through  an  intimate  friend.  She  was  not  a  hand- 
some woman;  but  her  features  were  highly  intellectual, 
her  eyes  beamed  with  intelligence,  and  her  voice  was 
sweet  and  musical.  She  was  tall,  for  a  woman,  and 
rather  masculine.  When  she  spoke,  it  was  with 
emphasis  and  marked  energv.  As  a  female  reformer 
she  was  the  Mary  Wolstencroft  of  the  age,  and  recruited 
disciples  successfully  in  the  cities  of  Boston,  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and,  in  fact,  throughout  the 
Union.  Her  lectures  rallied  hundreds  of  intelligent 
females  around  her  standard,  not  mentioning  the  tens 
of  thousands  among  the  enlightened  and,  apparently, 
Christian  part  of  the  sex,  who  filled  the  theatres  and 


46  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

public  halls  when  they  knew  that  her  sentiments  were 
not  only  opposed  to  Divine  revelations,  but  almost  if 
not  utterly,  subversive  of  simple  theism.  ' 

Who  will  deny  that  Christianity  is  the  foundation  of 
that  superior  happiness  which  the  nations  of  Christen- 
dom enjoy  above  all  other  nations  ?  Who  can  observe 
the  beautiful  superstructure  which  the  intelligence  of 
man  has  erected  on  such  a  basis,  or  can  look  abroad  on 
the  world,  and  hft  his  eyes  to  heaven  from  the  elevation 
already  attained  in  that  magnificent  building  of  God's 
own  architecture,  without  feeling  a  deep  sense  of  grati- 
tude tor  an  institution  that  has  grown  up,  not  only  to 
insure  our  temporal  well-being,  but  to  hold  out  high 
nopes  01  everlasting  enjoyment  ? 

We  are   a  flourishing  and  mighty  people.  What 
made  us  so  but  Christianity?    Without  this,  the  Pil- 
grims would  not  have  crossed  the  waters,  and  we,  who 
enjoy  so  many  privileges,  would  not  have  been  able  to 
otter  an  asylum  to  the  oppressed  of  the  world.  Miss 
Wright  was  what  might  have  been  called  a  clever 
woman ;  one  above  the  mass  of  her  sex  in  the  variety 
ot  her  reading,  and   opportunities  which  travelling 
might  have  afforded  her  of  attaining  a  thorough  know- 
ledge of  the  world.    Her  belief  was  that  the  history  of 
ages  past  and  revelation  are  not  worthy  of  belief 
because  nothing  can  be  Mown  which  has  not  been 
exposed  to  our  senses.    She  rejected  Christianity;  and 
not  only  declared  her  disbelief  in  it,  but  asked:  "What 
have  1  to  do  with  a  first  cause?    I  know  nothing  of  it  " 
bhe  was  known  to  be  a  follower  of  Eobert  Owen 
whose  monstrous  doctrines  on  the  laws  of  marriage' 
now  called  "free-love,"  were  alone  enough  to  brand 
Him  with  Ignominy  and  disgrace.    But  Miss  Wright-was 
said  to  be  a  learned,  sensible,  and  eloquent  lady,-  and 
tor  that  reason  husbands  encouraged  their  wives  to 
listen  to  sentiments  which,  if  adopted,  must  have  in- 
sured their  dishonor,  while  children  were  made  liable 
to  the  influence  of  their  example.    If  Christianity  be 
worth  anything,  it  should  be  too  sacred  for  pollution  • 
and,  if  people  profess  Christianity,  they  ought  not  to 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


47 


see  it  tainted  with  a  shadow,  much  less  suffer  them- 
selves to  run  the  risk  of  contamination  by  exposing 
themselves  to  evil  influences. 

Miss  Wright's  lectures  were  delivered  in  a  plausible 
style ;  one  well  calculated  to  ensnare  those  who  were 
not  accustomed  to  follow  a  speaker  with  proper  caution. 
Her  language  was  good,  but  her  discourses  were  entirely 
destitute  of  logic.  Her  premisses,  in  the  first  place, 
were  bad  and  unsatisfactory  ;  and,  even  admitting  them 
to  be  true,  her  conclusions  were  absolutely  false.  So 
inconsistent  were  the  points  of  any  one  of  her  lectures, 
that  they  were  not  susceptible  of  analysis  ;  and,  when 
she  startled  the  ignorant,  it  was  by  making  those  in- 
quiries which  could  not  he  proved,  but  such  as  were  felt 
by  the  common  sense  of  the  world. 

Brantz  Mayer  was  a  young  lawyer  of  rare  talent  and 
superior  education,  a  neat  poet  and  forcible  writer.  He 
was,  and  still  is,  a  gentleman,  and  that  title  compre- 
hends the  greatest  praise  I  could  bestow  on  him.  He 
was  handsome  in  person,  rather  aristocratic,  and  a 
great  admirer  of  women,  wine,  polite  literature,  and 
the  fine  arts ;  saying  nothing  of  his  refined  taste  for 
music.  He  wrote  considerably  for  the  Minerva,  and  his 
contributions  were  eagerly  sought  after.  In  aftertimes 
he  received  from  the  Government  the  appointment  of 
Secretary  to  the  Charge  des  Affaires  to  Mexico ;  and, 
shortly  after  his  return  home,  published  a  book  of  notes 
on  that  distracted  country,  which  was  well  received  by 
the  press  and  public.  Subsequently,  during  the  "  little 
unpleasantness"  between  North  and  South,  he  was 
appointed  to  a  high  office  in  the  Paymaster's  Depart- 
ment.   He  didn't  abuse  the  trust. 

Nathan  (7.  Brooks,  at  the  present  time  of  writing, 
President  of  a  flourishing  Female  College  in  Baltimore, 
was  also  a  contributor  to  the  columns  of  the  Visitor. 
He  was  an  excellent  poet,  rather  of  the  melancholy 
order,  but  exceedingly  popular  withal.  In  person  he 
was  tall,  slender,  pale,  and  sharp-featured ;  but  his 
countenance  expressed  benevolence  and  good  nature; 


48 


SHADOWS  OAT  THE  WALL; 


two  qualities  which,  I  think,  never  belonged  to  his 
nature.  He  published  several  works,  and  tried  hard  to 
elevate  the  literary  reputation  of  the  Monumental 
City."  His  "Scriptural  Anthology,"  and  many  of  his 
minor  poems,  won  him  quite  a  name.  A  souvenir,  called 
the  Amethyst,  edited  by  himself,  however,  was  a  dead 
failure,  and  he  lost  money  by  it.  It  caused  a  spirited 
controversy  between  his  anonymous  friends  and  myself 
in  the  public  prints,  and  for  years  there  was  a  coolness 
between  us.  But  time  wore  off  the  rancor  of  that  inky 
conflict,  and  we  are  friends  again.  I  will  do  justice  to 
Mr.  Brooks,  and  say  that  he  is  an  accomplished  scholar, 
a  Christian,  and  a  gentleman  ;  but  entirely  too  sensitive 
for  a  public  man  and  a  litterateur,  who  places  himself  at 
the  mercy  of  the  critic. 

Timothy  S.  Arthur  was  originally  a  tailor.  He  very 
rarely  entered  the  arena  of  song,  his  writings  being 
mostly  in  prose,  and  of  a  moral  character.  His  forte 
lies  in  the  description  of  domestic  scenes,  the  kindlier 
feelings  of  our  nature,  and  the  life  of  a  Christian ; 
hence  his  great  popularity  in  aftertimes  as  a  story 
writer  for  temperance  and  religious  journals.  He  was 
a  young  man  of  urbane  manners,  pleasant  as  a  com- 
panion, but  rather  pedantic.  He  conducted  two  literary 
papers  in  Baltimore  j  one  was  called  the  Athenceum,  the 
other  the  Young  Men's  Paper,  both  of  which  lived  but 
a  short  time.  In  Philadelphia,  where  he  now  resides, 
he  also  edited  besides  publishing  his  domestic  stories, 
which  are  numerous.  The  failing  of  sight  is  a  sad 
affliction  to  this  industrious  and  truly  good  man.  In 
the  publication  of  the  Home  Magazine,  a  most  excellent 
monthly,  he  is  aided  by  his  sons  and  daughters,  and  a 
corps  of  experienced  correspondents. 

John  N,  McJilton,  recently  an  Episcopal  clergyman, 
and  in  some  way  connected  with  the  public  sch'ools,  of 
which  institution  he  was  always  a  warm  advocate,  was 
one  of  my  most  industrious  correspondents.  He  was 
originally  a  cabinet-maker;  but  veneering  and  varnish 
did  not  suit  a  mind  like  his,  and  he  took  to  the  pen  in 
downright  earnest.    His  favorite  signature  was  "  Giles 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


49 


McQaiggin  ";  his  style  was  racy,  but  crude.  He  has 
published  a  volume  of  poems ;  some  of  them  are  truly 
meritorious,  and  entitle  him  to  rank  among  the  first  of 
our  bards;  while  others  want  nerve,  and  might  be 
placed  in  competition  with  the  mental  efforts  of  a 
romantic  schoolgirl.  He,  in  conjunction  with  Mr. 
Arthur,  established  a  weekly  called  the  Monument, 
which  did  not  tower  as  high  or  bid  fair  to  live  as  long 
as  the  shaft  in  Mount  Vernon  Place.  In  his  associa- 
tions, Mr.  McJilton  was  an  amiable  man,  good-humored 
and  modest.  He  was  extremely  popular  with  the 
pupils  of  the  public  schools,  and  took  much  delight  in 
improving  them  mentally,  physically,  and  morally. 
He  died,  much  lamented,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in 
the  latter  part  of  1875 ;  having  removed  to  that  city  to 
take  charge  of  a  congregation. 

Miss  Buchanan  (afterwards  Mrs.  Doctor  Annan)  wrote 
but  a  few  poetical  articles  for  the  Visitor,  but  those  few 
established  her  as  a  lady-writer  of  no  ordinary  merit. 
The  ''Glen  of  the  Butterflies  "  was  full  of  delicate  imagery, 
and  won  her  much  fame.  She  had  the  true  stamp  of 
poesy — full  of  love  and  the  soft  gushings  of  a  woman's 
heart.  In  person,  she  was  as  lovely  as  she  was  brilliant 
in  intellect.  I  believe  she  abandoned  the  muse  after 
she  undertook  the  sterner  duties  of  wife  and  mother. 

Miss  Modina  (subsequently  Mrs.  Haniblin)  was  a  wild 
and  wayward  writer,  somewhat  in  the  George  Sand 
school.  She  crowded  the  columns  of  the  Visitor  with 
her  mad  reveries  ;  sliced  the  character  of  lordly  man 
into  small  bits,  and  exalted  woman  to  the  rank  of 
angels.  One  "Atrox  Mars,"*  a  prosy  and  metaphysical 
essayist,  undertook  to  defend  the  honor  of  his  sex,  but 
was  almost  exterminated  by  the  galled  pen  of  the  literary 
giantess. 

The  first  interview  I  had  with  this  singular,  yet  highly 
gifted  woman,  is  worthy  of  recital.  I  had  published 
several  of  her  essays,  when  I  received  a  note  from  her, 
requesting  an  interview  at  her  suburban  residence,  about 

*  These  papers  of  "  Atrox  Mars  "  were  known  to  emanate  from  the  pen  of  the 
Rev.  S.  A.  Koszell,  a  ripe  scholar,  and  an  eminent  Methodist  preacher. 

3 


50 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


half  a  mile  from  the  city,  on  the  old  Belvedere  road.  It 
was  a  pleasant  summer  afternoon  when  I  walked  toward 
the  house.  As  I  ascended  the  steep  hill  on  which  the 
mansion  stood,  I  observed  a  female  form  perched  upon 
the  uppermost  rail  of  the  fence  which  marked  the  road. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  loose  garment  of  white  muslin  ;  her 
shoulders  were  uncovered,  and  her  long  dark  hair  was 
given  freely  to  the  breeze.  She  was  truly  a  picture  for 
the  study  of  an  artist ;  no  bad  imitation  of  Jul!  3t  in  the 
balcony  scene.  Her  hand  supported  her  head  and  her 
knee  her  arm.  As  I  approached,  I  lifted  my  hat,  and 
inquired  if  Miss  Modina  resided  in  the  house. 

"1  have  the  honor  of  being  that  genius,"  replied  she, 
laughing ;  and  you  are  the  editor  of  the  Visitor,  Take 
a  seat,  sir." 

I  was  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  she  meant  a  seat  on 
the  grass  or  the  rail ;  but,  determined  to  be  as  sociable 
as  possible,  I  jumped  up  beside  the  sylph. 

"  There  is  a  song  called  '  Sitting  on  a  Eail  V'  continued 
she.  "I  think  you  and  I  might  sing  it  now  with  con- 
siderable truth  and  effect."  And  then  she  moved  closer 
to  me,  and  shook  her  hair  from  her  forehead,  while  she 
distributed  it  most  freely  over  her  shoulders. 

After  a  very  animated  conversation,  during  which 
she  handled  the  '^Baltimore  scribblers"  without  gloves, 
she  entered  on  the  subject  which  conduced  to  the 
interview. 

''Your  avocation,  sir,"  said  she,  ''places  you  in  a 
position  to  do  a  poor  little  thing  like  me  a  good  deal  of 
harm  or  a  good  deal  of  good.  My  girlish  writings  have 
brought  me  before  the  j^ublic ;  you  have  flattered  me 
by  highly  complimentary  notices,  and — I  have  gained 
07ie  point.  Now,  I  want  you  to  help  me  to  gain  anx^ther. 
I  desire  to  make  my  debut  on  the  stage." 

''Are  you  serious  ?  And  are  you  aware  of  the  diffi- 
culties you  will  have  to  encounter  ?  "  asked  I,  taken  all 
aback  by  the  strange  resolution  of  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  I  have  weighed  them  all  well  "in  my  mind.  I 
ana  resolute,  determined  ;  and,  when  I  get  to  ]SIew  York, 
I  intend  to  put  myself  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  Hamblin* 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


51 


He  is  my  heau  ideal  of  an  actor,  and  I  long  to  make  his 
acquaintance." 

I  promised  to  introduce  her  to  Mr.  Walton,  then  the 
manager  of  the  Holliday  Street  Theatre,  and,  if  he  con- 
cluded to  bring  her  out,  I  pledged  my  pen  to  her  service 
in  preliminary  puffs. 

The  introduction  was  brought  about,  but  the  parties 
never  came  to  terms;  she  having  selected  Juliet  for  her 
dehut^  a  part  which,  Walton  contended,  was  beyond  her 
reach,  though  her  readings  were  beautiful.  She,  conse- 
quently, went  to  Kew  York,  where  she  entered  into  a 
theatrical  engagement  with  Thomas  Hamblin,  which 
ended  in  a  matrimonial  one.  While  at  the  Bowery 
Theatre  she  wrote  two  dramas,  which  had  an  immense 
run  and  filled  the  treasury.  They  were  "  The  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii"  and  "Eienzi";  both  adapted  from  Bulwer's 
works  of  the  same  titles.  She  was  found  dead  in  bed 
by  the  side  of  her  husband. 

Doctor  Lofflin,  the  "  Milford  Bard,"  was  a  poet  of  quan- 
tity more  than  quality,  Nature  had  been  bountiful  in 
her  gifts  of  the  ideal,  and  appeared  to  have  constituted 
him  a  kind  of  machine  for  grinding  out  thoughts  in 
rhythmical  parcels.  He  may  have  felt  what  he  wrote, 
but  his  ideas  were  commonplace,  and  the  loose  life  he 
led  belied  his  song.  The  harp-strings  that  are  soaked 
in  alcohol  seldom  give  out  refined  tones.  He  published 
a  volume  of  his  rhymes,  which  met  with  a  tolerable  sale, 
for  the  reason  that  his  name  had  been  so  long  and  often 
before  the  public  that  the  collection  was  looked  for  by 
all  who  had  read  his  "fugitive''  pieces.  Among  his 
best  efi'orts  was  his  poem  in  imitation  of  the  journey  of 
the  renowned  John  Gilpin.  He  frequently,  like  Mc- 
Donald Clark,  the  "mad  poet"  of  New  York,  used  to 
demean  himself  by  going  into  low  groggeries,  and  writ- 
ing off  a  few  stanzas  on  any  subject  the  barkeeper 
might  suggest,  for  a  taste  of  the  liquid  fire. 

But  I  would  speak  well  of  the  dead,  and  bury  their 
faults  with  them.  The  subject  of  this  sketch  had  his 
virtues.  He  was  aware  of  the  power  the  subtle  enemy 
had  over  him,  and  in  several  instances  became  the  vol- 


52 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


untary  inmate  of  the  jail,  in  order  that  the  mental  and 
physical  poison  might  be  withheld  from  his  lips.  He 
was  generous,  though  his  extreme  poverty  gave  him  no 
opportunity  of  exhibiting  his  liberality.  He  loved  his 
mother  almost  to  idolatry,  and  his  most  touching  lines 
were  addressed  to  her.  He  looked  upon  a  virtuous 
woman  as  an  earthly  angel,  and  always  evinced  the 
greatest  respect  for  the  sex  in  general ;  for,  through 
their  bounty,  he  was  often  supplied  with  a  good  rheal 
or  a  clean  suit  of  clothes.  Lofflin  died  very  poor ;  for, 
like  most  poets,  he  did  not  know  the  value  of  money. 
No  marble  slab  tells  the  spot  where  he  sleeps ;  and, 
like  most  of  our  native  poets,  his  songs  have  perished 
with  him. 

LMiSS  Elizabeth  Bogart,  of  New  York,  contributed  many 
exquisite  poems  to  the  columns  of  the  Minerva,  She 
was  a  writer  of  ability,  possessing  strong  womanly 
feelings,  and  gained  an  enviable  reputation  in  the 
Northern  journals  over  the  signature  of  '^Estelle." 

Miss  Phoehe  M.  Clarke  also  sent  in  several  truly 
beautiful  effusions  from  her  prolific  pen.  She  was  a 
young  actress  of  fair  reputation,  and  died  in  Boston, 
having  left  the  stage  to  fulfil  a  matrimonial  engagement 
with  a  wealthy  gentleman  of  that  city. 

James  Hungerford^  well  known  as  the  author  of  an 
excellent  domestic  narrative,  descriptive  of  Southern 
country  life,  entitled  the  Old  Plantation,"  commenced 
his  early  efforts  as  a  modest  contributor  to  the  Visitor, 
His  favorite  nom  de  plume  was  "  Fitz-James,"  and  some 
of  his  pieces  possessed  considerable  merit.  Mr.  Hun- 
gerford's  talents  are  various.  He  studied  law,  taught 
school,  plays  prettily  on  the  guitar,  writes  poetry  and 
sensational  stories,  and,  withal,  is  a  fine  elocutionist. 

Ibo  T.  Mayen,  recently  deceased,  was  a  German 
scholar  of  more  than  ordinary  capacity,  and  a  most 
amiable  man.  His  close  translations  of  Schiller,  Klop- 
stock,  Goethe,  and  other  German  poets,  first  brought 
him  into  notice.  His  original  poems  were  marked  by 
great  power  of  thought  and  rhythmic  accuracy ;  one 
poem  I  remember  in  particular  as  strikingly  beautiful. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


53 


It  was  entitled  the  ^'Suicide/'  and  was  worthy  of  a 
more  extended  notice  than  it  received  from  able  judges 
of  the  sublime  and  beautiful.  Mr.  Hayen  was  for  a 
long  time  foreign  clerk  in  the  Baltimore  Post-office ; 
for  several  years  before  his  death  he  was  an  attache  in 
the  office  of  the  German  Correspondent,  being  a  brother- 
in-law  of  Colonel  Frederick  Eaine,  its  editor  and  pro- 
prietor. 

The  Fate  of  Baltimore  Periodicals, 

After  having  established  the  Baltimore  daily  Clipper, 
in  partnership  with  Messrs.  Bull  &  Tuttle,  and  edited 
it,  with  Mr.  John  Wills  as  associate,  for  the  space  of 
three  years,  I  found  myself  not  only  in  debt,  but  with 
very  faint  prospects  of  again  obtaining  a  foothold  m 
the  musical  circle.  People  had  lost  sight  of  me  as  a 
teacher,  and  others  had  taken  my  place.  I  therefore 
sold  out  my  interest  in  the  concern  to  my  partners. 
The  proceeds  of  the  sale  barely  covered  my  liabilities ; 
and,  with  a  sad  heart,  I  left  Baltimore  and  took  up  my 
residence  in  the  city  of  Washington. 

The  Clipper  was  started  in  opposition  to  the  Sun;  but 
the  latter  had  obtained  too  firm  a  footing,  not  only 
from  the  real  business  tact  with  which  it  was  con- 
ducted—as it  is  at  this  day— but  from  its  going  with 
the  crowd,  and  furnishing  news  at  a  rate  which  could 
be  reached  by  the  poorest.  It  was  said  to  be  the  first 
"  penny  paper  "  established  in  Baltimore ;  this  was  a 
mistake,  as  I  have  shown  before.  The  JEvening  Tran- 
script, published  by  Skinner  &  Tenny  years  before,  was 
the  first  cheap  daily  journal. 

The  Clipper  was  popular  in  its  early  days.  I  con- 
ducted it  unbiassed  by  any  party  feeling  or  religious 
creed,  and  made  it  light  and  of  a  domestic  nature.  Its 
spiciness  won  it  much  favor  with  the  people,  and  it  was 
sought  after,  though  it  never  paid,  at  least  while  I  was 
connected  with  it.  Mr.  Wills  was  a  very  industrious 
writer,  though  not  a  forcible  one — he  being  young 
then,  and  a  mere  tiro  in  journalism.  Since  then  he 
has  gained  experience,  having  been  editor  of  the  Balti- 


54 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


more  Patriot,  a  spirited  commercial  and  political  journal, 
jointly  with  Mr.  McJilton,  and  beinij^  at  present  the 
writer  of  the  leaders  for  the  Sunday  Telegram.  Au- 
gustus Eichardson  wrote  a  great  deal  for  the  Clipper. 
He  was  an  exceedingly  bitter  dramatic  critic,  and  fre- 
quently brought  the  concern  into  trouble  by  the  rancor 
of  his  criticisms.  He  would  sometimes  slip  them  in 
without  my  knowledge ;  not  as  communications,  but  as 
editorials.  At  one  time  I  had  to  stop  the  press  when 
the  edition  was  nearly  half  printed,  and  have  one,  or 
perhaps  two,  of  his  caustic  editorials  taken  out.  He 
was,  however,  a  ready  writer,  and  sometimes  quite 
witty. 

Samuel  Barnes  took  my  chair  in  the  sanctum,  and 
conducted  the  paper  in  his  usual  old-fashioned  and 
methodical  style.  After  a  while  it  assumed  the  name 
of  Republican^  and  became  the  organ  of  the  Know- 
nothing,  or,  as  it  was  styled,  the  American  "  party. 
In  this  capacity  it  flourished  through  the  terrible 
excitement  of  those  days,  an  excitement  which  may  be 
remembered  with  pain  by  many  who  may  glance  over 
these  papers. 

The  era  was  one  of  riot  and  bloodshed  (1857).  The 
daily  journals  were  burdened  with  records  of  assaults 
with  intent  to  kill,  riots,  and  street  fights,  diXid  palatable 
programmes  of  rowdyism.  Murder,  theft,  incendiarism, 
and  vandalism  stalked  freely  abroad  in  open  daylight, 
without  a  murmur  from  the  quiet  citizens,  who  mourned 
over  the  fallen  dignity  of  Baltimore.  The  arm  of  the 
law  seemed  paralyzed  and  powerless  ]  while  order- 
loving  citizens  could  devise  no  means  of  securing  public 
safety.  The  result  of  the  election  was  a  wholesale 
violation  of  the  chartered  rights  of  citizenship.  The 
ballot-box,  the  safeguard  of  freemen,  was  violated,  the 
polls  disgraced,  and  the  right  of  suff^rage  violently 
trampled  under  foot.  Several  Democratic  and  inde- 
pendent candidates  for  the  City  Council  retired  from 
the  contest  in  disgust.  They  had  the  moral  character 
of  the  city  at  heart,  and  abandoned  their  rights  in 
order  that  the  name  of  Baltimore  might  not  again  be 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


55 


tarnished.  During  the  election  day  respectable  citizens 
were  driven  from  the  poils,  deadly  weapons  were 
placed  at  their  heads,  and  they  had  to  forego  the  privi- 
lege of  citizenship  in  order  to  save  their  lives.  In 
some  of  the  wards  loaded  swivels  were  stationed  at  the 
places  of  voting,  in  order  to  intimidate  such  Democrats 
as  had  the  temerity  to  attempt  the  exercise  of  their 
rights.  During  the  day,  young  men,  in  a  state  of 
beastly  intoxication,  were  seen  driving  through  the 
business  thoroughfares,  firing  and  deliberately  loading 
their  muskets  and  revolvers,  insulting  females  with 
their  peculiar  slang,  and  defying  all  creation  to  battle. 
This  outrageous  conduct  did  not  speak  well  for  the 
reputation  of  a  city  that  had,  by  strict  order  and  quiet, 
wiped  out  former  reproaches ;  a  Christian  city,  and  a 
city,  too,  governed  by  a  party  who  claimed  to  be  native 
born  patriots,  whose  motto  was  "Americans  must 
govern  America.'' 

On  the  second  morning  after  the  election,  the  Sun^ 
which,  I  believe,  was  neutral,  made  the  following 
remarks  : 

The  Affair  of  Wednesday, — As  we  remarked  yester- 
day, the  nominal  election  on  Wednesday  last  was 
nothing  better  than  a  mockery,  riotous  and  bloody,  of 
the  elective  franchise.  The  scenes  of  that  day,  though 
not  so  frightfully  distorted  with  massacre  and  wounds 
as  were  those  of  the  election  daj^s  last  year,  exhibit 
the  political  condition  of  our  city  at  the  very  lowest 
depths  of  demoralization.  InTo  report,  however  var- 
nished, can  relieve  the  fact  that  vast  masses  of  the 
people  are  overawed,  and  that  the  city  itself  is  politi- 
cally subjugated  by  an  irrepressible  and  unmitigated 
intolerance  of  the  principle  of  universal  suifrage.  .  .  , 
The  polls  are  notoriously  places  of  danger  to  life 
and  limb,  and  there  the  rowdy  and  bully  exult  in  the 
possession  and  exercise  of  supreme  power.  We  say 
these  things,  perfectly  willing  that  they  should  be 
hooted  at  and  denied." 

In  strong  contrast  with  the  foregoing,  the  following 
announcement  appeared  in  the  Clipper : 


56 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


"  The  issue  of  yesterday  is  glorious  to  dwell  upon  ; 
not,  indeed,  from  the  paramount  importance  of  the 
simple  end  achieved,  so  much  as  the  withering  condem- 
nation of  our  revilers  at  home  and  abroad,  which  the 
mighty  result  thunders  forth  to  their  consternation,  and 
in  tones  not  to  be  misunderstood.  .  .  .  The  motley  host 
has  been  *  routed — horse,  foot  and  dragoon/  and  so  sadly 
discomfited,  that  to  rally  again  is  impossible.  Poor 
conglomerated  Democracy  is  badly,  ay,  unmercifully 
whipped,  and  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  we  shall  be 
seriously  troubled  with  its  impertinent  hangers-on  in 
our  seats  of  public  authority." 

Know-nothingism,  like  an  ignis  fatuus^  shone  bright 
for  a  while ;  misled  the  people  by  its  false  light,  and 
then  expired.  The  war  broke  out,  and  the  Clipper  (for 
which  I  alw^ays  felt  a  parental  atfection)  turned  recreant 
to  the  cause  of  the  South.  It  became  a  violent  anti- 
rebel  paper ;  obtained  the  patronage  of  the  Government, 
and  made  money  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  private  senti- 
ments of  its  proprietors.  It  dropped  the  name  of  He- 
publican,  and  again  assumed  that  which  I  had  given  it. 
After  a  sickly  existence  of  a  year  or  so,  it  was  sold  out 
to  a  party,  and  became  the  Evening  CommerciaL  That, 
too,  has  gone  to  ^*the  tomb  of  the  Capulets." 

I  shall  now  return  to  my  literary  contemporaries.  I 
have  hinted  at  the  opinion  I  have  always  cherished, 
that  no  strictly  literary  journal  published  in  the  city  of 
Baltimore  will  pay;  and,  if  it  does  not  pay,  it  cannot 
continue  to  exist.  The  following  extract  from  the 
Clipper,  while  under  my  charge,  will  show  that  I  have 
cause  for  expressing  that  opinion.  The  remarks  were 
published  under  the  editorial  head  of  the  issue  of  October 
20th,  1840.  It  may  be  interesting  to  young  readers  as 
well  as  old  ones;  I  therefore  copy  it  entire: 

"  Southern  Literature. — Our  friends  of  the  Saturday 
Morning  Visitor  plume  themselves  not  a  little  in  having 
secured  the  aid  of  Professor  Ingraham,  'a  distinguished 
writer  of  the  South.'  That  Prof.  Ingraham  is  a  dis- 
tinguished writer,  so  far  as  the  production  of  a  novel  or 
two  and  a  number  of  stories  for  periodicals  will  entitle 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


57 


him  to  the  term,  we  will  agree;  but  we  cannot  perceive 
how  he  can  be  classed  among  Southern  writers.  In  the 
list  of  the  contributors  to  the  columns  of  the  Visitor,  we 
perceive  the  names  of  several  who  are  not  Southerners; 
their  contributions,  of  course,  whether  good,  bad  or  in- 
different, should  not  be  tbrown  into  the  scale  of  Southern 
literature.  As  much  affection  as  we  have  for  the  Visitor 
— an  affection  which  springs  from  early  associations — we 
cannot  agree  that  the  original  writings  which  appear  in 
its  columns  should  be  made  the  standard  of  excellence 
of  the  literature  of  the  South.  It  is  true,  as  the  editor 
remarks,  that  his  paper  is  '  the  only  periodical  in  Balti- 
more devoted  exclusively  to  polite  literature ';  and,  as 
far  as  Baltimore  is  concerned,  it  certainly  displays  a 
goodly  list  of  contributors.  It  stands,  as  it  were,  a  lone 
rock  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  and  the  shipwrecked 
mariners  are  clinging  to  its  sides,  and,  with  desperate 
grasp,  lingering  out  a  brief  literary  existence.  We  will 
name  these  shipwrecked  editors^  in  the  order  given  them 
by  the  Visitor,  not  presuming  to  rank  them  according 
to  their  deserts : 

"J.  N.  McJilton,  Esq.,  late  editor  of  the  Monument, 
This  should  have  read,  editor  of  the  late  Monument,  for 
that  literar}^  work,  reared  on  so  stupendous  an  intel- 
lectual foundation,  did  not  prove  its  durability  equal  to 
that  of  the  towering  memento  which  overlooks  our 
city.  It  was  a  beautifully  ^rm^e<i  work;  and,  in  saying 
that,  we  give  it  all  the  praise  it  deserves.  After  a  brief 
struggle,  it  died.    Yerdict,  too  much  pedantry. 

"  The  next  in  order  is  N.  C.  Brooks,  A.  M.,  late  editor 
of  the  North  American  Quarterly  Magazine,  or  rather, 
editor  of  the  late,  &c.  The  great  humbug  phenomenon 
of  Mr.  Sumner  L.  Fairfield  was  this  said  Quarterly,  who, 
after  endeavoring  to  cram  it  down  the  throats  of  the 
public,  sold  it  to  Mr.  Brooks,  under  whose  parental 
charge  it  '  went  the  way  of  all  flesh,'  leaving  scarcely  a 
memory  of  its  excellence  behind. 

"  Then  follows  J.  E.  Snodgrass,  Esq.,  late  editor  of  the 
American  Museum.    Again  the  reader  will  please  apply 
the  word  late  to  the  Museum,  which  was  established 
3* 


58 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


under  the  auspices  of  3Ir.  Brooks,  and  killed  by  a  Poly- 
glot Club.  2S  0  reproach  can  be  attached  to  the  citizens 
of  Baltimore  ;  the  demise  of  the  work  was  anticipated 
from  the  hour  of  its  birth  ;  it  being  an  exceedingly  deli- 
cate and  interesting  child,  too  weak  to  suck  at  its 
mother's  breast. 

'•Then  we  have  T.  S.  Arthur,  Esq.,  late  editor  of  the 
Atlienceum,  Please  read  the  late  Athenaeum.  Mr.  Arthur 
is  really  a  pretty  writer,  and  a  poet  of  feeling ;  but  so 
prosy,  and  sour,  and  over-ethical,  that  the  Athenceum 
got  the  fan-tods^  and  pined,  and  pined  in  green  and 
yellow  melancholy,  until  it  died  for  want  of  breath. 
Verdict,  too  much  encouragement  of  native  genius. 

'•'Here  we  have  E.  Y.  Eeese,  Esq.,  editor  of  the 
Methodist  Protestant,  a  young  man  who  has  written 
much,  and  has  yet  more  to  write. 

Our  own  name  brings  up  the  rear  of  the  corps  edi- 
torial, and  the  only  boast  we  have  is  having  warmed 
into  existence  all  of  the  foregoing  writers  but  one;  and 
also  having  established  more  papers,  and  witnessed  more 
goings  down  of  the  same,  than  all  of  them  put  together. 
This  we  consider  a  feather  in  our  cap  ;  and  we  can  only 
compare  ourself  to  a  literary  maniac,  standing  amid 
^the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crash  of  words.' 

We  heartily  rejoice  in  the  success  of  the  Visitor,  and 
hope  it  will  continue  to  breast  the  storm.  If  the  editor 
is  bent  on  bringing  to  light  Southern  talent,  let  him  look 
around  him.  There  are  many  excellent  writers  in  this 
city,  yet  unknown  to  fame,  who  only  need  a  friendly 
notice  from  those  who  have  charge  of  the  public  presses, 
to  become  ornaments  to  our  literary  stock." 

This  article  created  no  little  sensation  among  the 
litterateurs  of  Baltimore ;  its  truth  could  not  be  denied. 
Every  literary  work  failed,  no  matter  what  talent  and 
ability  were  engaged  to  sustain  it.  The  Visitor  itself, 
with  all  its  boasting,  had  to  succumb ;  it  came  within 
the  influence  of  the  Upas-tree,  while  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Doctor  J.  E.  Snodgrass,  who  was  an  ultra 
Abolitionist.  It  soon  became  merged  in  the  National 
Era^  and  there  was  an  end  of  it. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


59 


The  first  Sunday  journal  issued  in  Baltimore  was  the 
Enterprise.  It  was  started  by  the  then  well-known 
periodical  dealer,  William  Taylor.  It  was  under  my 
editorial  charge,  and  had  not  reached  its  fourth  number, 
ere  the  conscientious  scruples  of  Mr.  Taylor  induced 
him  to  change  the  day  of  publication  to  Saturday,  and 
it  fell  through.  My  excellent  friend,  William  Prescott 
Smith,  was  a  contributor  to  this  paper.  He  was  origin- 
ally a  tailor,  but  his  genius  did  not  worJi  easy  in  that 
direction.  In  his  hours  of  leisure  he  studied  hard; 
and,  at  length,  became  a  writer  for  some  of  the  literary 
periodicals.  His  urbane  manners,  moral  bearing,  and 
strict  integrity  won  him  the  esteem  of  every  man; 
while  his  manly  deportment,  and  really  handsome 
person,  made  him  a  favorite  with  the  ladies.  He  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Joshua  Vansant,  so  well 
known  in  the  political  circles  of  Maryland.  Mr.  Smith 
received  a  humble  position  in  the  Transportation  De- 
partment of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Kailroad,  from 
which  he  gradually  rose  until  he  became  Master  of 
Transportation  of  that  great  corporation.  The  com- 
pany placed  the  greatest  reliance  in  him,  and  the 
public  held  him  in  high  estimation.  He  retained  his 
important  position  many  years,  until  deafness  com- 
pelled him  to  retire  from  an  office  which  he  was  so 
admirably  calculated  to  fill,  and  accepted  a  less  arduous 
and  responsible  place  in  the  management  of  the  Mary- 
land Central  Eailroad. 

There  was  not  a  man  in  Baltimore  more  popular  than 
William  Prescott  Smith,  and  there  was  not  an  office 
within  the  gift  of  the  people  that  he  could  not  have 
had  for  the  asking.  He  Avas  well  known  to  the  travel- 
ling public,  and  respected  by  all,  not  only  for  his  genial 
manners,  but  his  sterling  integrity.  He  was  also  a 
great  friend  of  the  liberal  arts ;  encouraged  genius,  and 
aided  much  in  giving  tone  to  the  society  of  the  Monu- 
mental City.  He  was  a  self-made  man;  died  much 
lamented  a  few  years  since,  and  well  may  Maryland 
mourn  the  loss  of  one  of  her  most  public-spirited  sons. 

I  always  attributed  the  failure  of  our  literary  journals 


60 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


to  the  encouragement  extended  to  foreign  and  l^orthern 
books  and  periodicals.  Both  the  Taylors,  William  and 
Henry,  made  money  b}^  the  sale  of  IS'orthern  printed 
matter.  Other  periodical  stores  were  opened,  and 
every  Saturday  night  they  were  crowded  with  people 
hungry  for  literature  that  originated  elsewhere  than  in 
their  midst.  Our  own  papers  were  pushed  aside  for 
the  weeklies,  monthlies,  and  quarterlies,  that  were 
even  inimical  to  Southern  institutions.  Does  the  reader 
wonder  that  so  many  of  our  home  periodicals  have  been 
shipwrecked  ? 

After  the  demise  of  the  Visito?^  another  attempt  was 
made  to  establish  a  family  weekly.  This  new  child  of 
literature  entered  on  a  forlorn  hope,  and  expired  after 
a  very  brief  existence.  It  was  entitled  the  Dispatch, 
and  was  the  first  of  that  used-up  name.  The  second 
weekly,  bearing  the  same  name,  was  published  by 
Messrs.  Go  bright  &  ^^orris^  and  made  a  very  fair  show, 
being  edited  with  much  tact  and  ability.  However,  it 
went  the  way  of  all  its  predecessors,  much  to  the  regret 
of  those  who  felt  a  desire  to  encourage  enterprising 
Ealtimoreans. 

Among  my  literary  acquaintances  were  Anna  Cora 
Bitchie  (Mrs.  Mowett),  and  her  amiable  husband,  Wil- 
liam Eitchie,  then  senior  partner  in  the  Richmond  En- 
quirer, Mrs.  Eitchie  was  an  amiable  and  lady-like 
woman — rather  a  has  bleu;  but,  notwithstanding,  very 
modest  in  her  estimation  of  her  own  merits.  Though 
admired  and  respected  by  all,  yet,  having  sinned  so  far 
as  apj^earing  on  the  stage  may  be  considered  sinning, 
she  was  not  received  into  the  society  of  the  F.  F.  Y.'s 
of  Eiehmond ;  or,  at  least,  had  but  little  influence  in 
that  quarter.  Her  merits  as  an  actress  were  well 
known  to  the  friends  of  the  drama  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  and  her  efforts  as  a  writer  received  the 
endorsement  of  the  press  pretty  generally  ;  I  therefore 
need  not  give  my  opinion.  All  who  wish  to  know  who 
Anna  Cora  Eitchie  was,  had  better  purchase  her  auto- 
biography and  peruse  it.  She  was  a  peculiar  woman, 
and  an  enthusiast;  loved  reading,  and  the  study  of 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


61 


human  character.  She  had  the  full  range  of  Mr. 
Eitchio^s  splendid  library,  and  never  seemed  so  happy 
as  when  she  was  turning  over  the  musty  pages  of  some 
ancient  tome,  and  garnering  in  her  own  prolific  brain 
the  treasures  of  occult  lore.  She  was  one  of  those 
natural  religionists  who  "look  through  nature  up  to 
nature's  God."  She  adhered  to  the  beautiful,  yet 
visionary,  doctrine  of  Swedenborg,  and  zealously  exerted 
herself  to  establish  a  church  in  the  capital  of  Virginia. 
I  believe  the  congregation  never  mustered  more  than 
twenty  or  thirty  personages,  of  all  sexes,  conditions  and 
colors.  Her  readings  were  simply  beautiful;  particularly 
in  poetry,  of  which  she  was  a  great  admirer,  though  she 
seldom  or  never  ventured  to  give  the  ideal  through  the 
medium  of  numbers.  In  drawing  and  painting  she  dis- 
played exquisite  taste,  and  was,  withal,  an  excellent 
judge  of  the  fine  arts. 

Her  husband,  Mr.  Eitchie,  though  not  a  man  of  extra- 
ordinary talent,  was  a  good  business  man,  useful  citizen, 
an  amiable  gentleman,  and  a  warm  admirer  of  music 
and  the  drama.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the  "little  un- 
pleasantness" between  the  l^orth  and  South,  he  parted 
with  his  wife ;  who,  when  Virginia  decided  to  buckle 
her  destiny  to  the  South,  made  her  way  through  the 
lines  and  went  to  Europe  in  the  capacity  of  a  Paris  cor- 
respondent, where  she  remained  until  death  put  an  end 
to  her  career.  I  believe  her  husband  never  saw  her 
after  she  left  Eichmond. 

John  C.  McCahe  was  a  writer  of  some  ability  and  a 
poet  of  refined  taste.  When  the  flower  of  life  was  in  its 
full  bloom,  and  I  presumptuously  considered  myself  the 
herald  of  budding  genius,  I  occasionally  received  from 
an  anonymous  writer,  unpretending  poetical  produc- 
tions, accompanied  by  notes,  modestly  asking  that  they 
might  find  a  place  in  the  columns  of  the  Visitor.  Some 
were  rejected,  others  w^ere  published.  The  young 
aspirant  began  to  grow  in  favor,  and  finally  achieved  a 
reputation,  at  least  so  far  as  Southern  literature  was 
concerned.  This  correspondent  was  John  C.  McCabe. 
He  was  originally  a  dentist,  and  established  himself  in 


62 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


Norfolk,  Va.,  where  he  became  very  popular,  in  spite  of 
his  teeth.  Subsequently  he  studied  divinity,  and  took 
orders  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  During  the  war  he 
became  chaplain  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  wrote 
some  of  the  best  Southern  war-songs  I  have  read.  He 
was  a  warm  supporter  of  the  *'Lost  Cause,"  and  was 
pretty  well  known  as  "the  fighting  parson."  In  the 
pulpit  he  was  flowery  and  pleasiog,  but  not  solid.  .  I 
have  set  some  of  his  ballads  to  music.  His  brother, 
Eev.  James  JVIcCabe,  was  also  an  eloquent  Episcopal 
minister  and  a  poet ;  one  of  his  sons  became  a  bright 
star  in  the  literary  firmament. 

Jesse  D,  Reed,  a  well-known  "local  editor,"  or,  to  use 
a  plainer  term,  reporter,  was  a  man  of  very  ordinary 
talent;  and,  in  his  younger  days,  a  compositor  in  the 
oflflce  of  the  Hagerstown  Torchlight,  He  was  attached 
to  the  Sun  from  the  day  of  its  first  issue  up  to  the  time 
of  his  death;  generally  in  the  capacity  of  reporter, 
attending  mostly  to  court  cases.  He  was  sixty-one 
years  of  age  when  he  died,  and  did  not  "die  in  harness,'' 
as  some  papers  stated ;  but,  more  properly,  broke  down 
in  harness.  In  his  later  days  he  became  almost  useless 
to  the  Sun  establishment,  the  duties  of  his  department 
requiring  younger  and  more  active  men.  Mr.  Abell,  the 
proprietor,  assigned  to  him  no  particular  station,  but 
allowed  him  to  be  at  the  office  and  come  and  go  when 
he  pleased,  leaving  orders  that  he  should  receive  his 
pay  regularly.  Eeed  was  sincerely  attached  to  the 
journal  that  carried  him  along,  and  bitter  against  its 
rival  establishment,  the  Clipper.  He  fought  many  a 
hard  battle  for  Swain,  Abell  and  Simmons^  the  original 
owners  of  the  Sun,  and,  to  the  end,  gloried  in  their 
triumph. 

With  the  exception  of  the  American  and  the  Sun,  none 
of  the  Baltimore  journals  have  proved  a  success.  It 
was  reported  some  time  ago  that  Mr.  G-eorge  W.  Childs, 
the  proprietor  of  the  Philadelphia  Ledger,  had  made  an 
offer  of  ^6,000,000  for  the  JVTew  York  Herald  and  all  its 
appurtenances,  and  the  ofl'er  was  rejected;  Mr.  Bennett 
considering  the  concern  a  kind  of  family  heirloom,  and 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


63 


nursing  the  belief  that  it  would  forever  be  a  source  of 
rich  revenue  through  generations  to  come.  Empires 
have  fallen,  and  so  may  the  Herald.  The  elder  Bennett 
started  it  in  an  obscure  cellar,  with  scarcely  a  cent  in 
his  pocket,  and  a  great  unpopularity  pressing  upon  him. 
Being  a  man  of  energy,  he  bravely  stemmed  the  current, 
and  finally  succeeded.  The  JSTew  York  Sun,  when  owned 
by  Moses  Y.  Beach,  at  one  time  far  outstripped  the 
Herald^  or  any  other  daily  published  in  this  country. 
It  was  the  first  "penny  paper,"  and  shed  its  rays  in 
every  quarter  of  the  great  metropolis,  from  the  palatial 
residence  of  the  millionaire  down  to  the  humblest  dwell- 
ing. Its  reign  was  of  short  duration,  though  a  brilliant 
one.  When  it  began  to  decline,  it  was  sold  out  to  a 
party,  and  is  now  a  political  paper.  The  Philadelphia 
Ledger  was  established  by  Swain,  Abell  &  Simmons,  on 
the  cheap  plan  of  the  New  York  Sun,  and  still  holds  its 
own  in  the  hands  of  the  energetic  Mr.  Childs.  The  suc- 
cess the  Ledger  met  with  induced  the  establishers  to 
found  the  Baltimore  Sun, 

If  what  was  said  of  Mr.  Childs'  offer  to  purchase  the 
Herald  for  so  vast  a  sum  be  true,  that  gentleman  made 
a  bold  stake ;  but  he  is  a  lucky  as  well  as  a  daring  man, 
and,  knowing  this,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  venture.  He 
is  a  self-made  man,  and  has  risen  to  rank  with  distin- 
guished men  of  the  nation.  Shrewd,  industrious,  and 
calculating,  he  has  acquired  an  immense  wealth  from  a 
capital  of^ — nothing  but  talent  and  energy.  I  remember 
Mr.  Childs  when  he  was  a  boy.  Even  then,  though  but 
half-way  through  his  teens,  he  had  the  reputation  of 
being  a  shrewd  and  "  pushing  "  lad ;  never  daunted  by 
a  bugbear,  or  turned  from  his  objective  point  by  the 
dread  of  failure.  Mr.  Joseph  J.  Stewart,  who  was  the 
associate  of  his  boyhood,  says  of  him : — "  He  was  then 
what  he  is  now.  His  heart  was  always  larger  than  his 
means.  There  is  but  one  thing  he  always  despised,  and 
that  is  meanness ;  there  is  but  one  character  he  hates, 
and  that  is  a  liar.  When  he  left  Baltimore,  a  little  boy, 
the  affectionate  regrets  of  all  his  companions  followed 
him  to  Philadelphia;  and  the  attachment  they  felt  for 


64 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


him  was  more  like  romance  than  reality  in  this  every- 
day world.  ...  I  remember  that  he  wrote  to  me  years 
ago,  when  we  were  both  boys,  that  he  meant  to  prove 
that  a  man  could  he  liberal  and  successful  at  the  same 
time.'' 

Many  of  our  wealthiest  men,  when  they  are  prostrated 
on  their  deathbeds,  begin  to  balance  up  the  ledger  of 
life;  and  many  are  the  errors  and  omissions  they  dis- 
cover. It  is  then  they  begin  to  think  of  the  little'good 
they  have  done  their  fellow-creatures.  The  wealth  they 
have  accumulated  through  shrewd  operations,"  they 
cannot  carry  with  them  into  the  other  world.  They 
then  begin  to  think  of  polishing  their  tarnished  reputa- 
tions by  bountiful  bequests  to  struggling  charitable 
institutions,  or  building  up  new  ones ;  richly  endowing 
the  cities  or  towns  that  helped  them  to  the  means  to  be 
benevolent.  ]N"ot  so  with  those  noble  philanthropists, 
George  W.  Childs  and  George  Peabody;  they  lay  the 
foundations  of  their  monuments  before  they  die;  they 
do  not  wait  to  view  the  blessings  they  have  conferred 
from  a  stand-point  in  the  spirit  land.  They  bring  hap- 
piness to  themselves  by  making  other  people  happy; 
reaping  their  reward  in  the  present  as  well  as  in  the 
future. 

The  business  career  of  Mr.  Childs  is  too  well  known 
to  the  people  of  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  for  me  to  do 
more  than  allude  to  it.  From  a  poor  and  almost  friend- 
less boy,  he  has,  in  a  quarter  of  a  century,  risen  to  a 
position  that  enables  him  to  entertain  Presidents,  Em- 
perors, Kings  and  Princes.  Col.  John  W.  Forney  says  : 
''JSTo  charity  appeals  to  Childs  in  vain;  no  object  of 
patriotism,  no  great  enterprise,  no  sufferer  from  mis- 
fortune, whether  the  ex-Confederate  or  the  stricken 
foreigner.  He  enjoys  the  confidence  of  President  Grant, 
and  yet  was  among  the  first  to  send  a  splendid  sub- 
scription to  the  monument  of  Greeley.  He,  more  than 
any  other,  pushed  the  subscription  of  over  $100,000  for 
the  family  of  the  dead  hero,  George  G.  Meade,  and  yet 
Alexander  H,  Stephens,  of  Georgia,  has  no  firmer  friend. 
His  list  of  unpublished  and  unknown  benevolences  would 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


65 


give  the  lie  to  the  poor  story  that  he  craves  notoriety. 
.  .  .  He  made  his  money  himself,  not  by  speculation 
or  office,  and  got  none  by  inheritance.  He  coins 
fortune  like  a  magician,  and  spends  it  like  a  man  of 
heart.  He  likes  society  and  lives  like  a  gentleman.  He 
is  as  temperate  as  ever  Horace  Greeley  was,  and  yet  he 
never  denies  his  friends  a  generous  glass  of  wine.  His 
habits  are  as  simple  as  Abraham  Lincoln's,  and  yet  his 
residence  is  a  gem  bright  with  exquisite  decoration  and 
rich  in  every  variety  of  art.  He  gives  a  Christmas 
dinner  to  newsboys  and  bootblacks,  and  dines  travelling 
Dukes  and  Earls  with  equal  ease  and  familiarity.  He 
never  seems  to  be  at  work,  goes  everywhere,  sees 
everybody,  helps  everybody,  and  yet  his  great  machine 
moves  like  a  clock  under  his  constant  supervision." 

Mr.  Childs  is  especially  the  friend  of  those  who  help 
him  to  build  up  his  noble  fortune.  A  man  in  his  position 
can,  if  he  will,  render  the  lives  of  many  of  those  who 
serve  him  bitter  or  shameful ;  he  can  corrupt  them  by 
bad  example ;  he  can  mortify  their  feelings ;  he  can,  if 
it  suits  him,  make  them  bad  members  of  society.  On 
the  contrary,  he  chooses  to  be  the  friend  and  benefactor 
of  those  who  labor  with  him ;  and,  as  his  experience 
has  taught  him  that"  the  struggle  of  life  often  needs 
support,  he  knows  where  and  how  to  render  it.  I 
honor  and  respect  him  for  his  judgment  and  kindness 
of  heart. 

Music  and  Musicians. 

Music  has  always  been,  and  still  is,  my  frailty.  Since 
my  earliest  youth  I  have  sought  its  gentle  influence ; 
and  though  in  early  days  1  prepared  myself  for  another 
and  quite  a  different  pursuit,  yet  the  fondness  of  it  clung 
to  me,  and  it  finally  became  my  profession,  though  my 
parents  were  solicitous  that  I  should  adopt  any  other 
honorable  calling  but  that.  I  studied  it  as  an  art  and 
as  a  science  ;  but  only  for  the  sake  of  the  accomplish- 
ment, never  thinking  that  I  should  use  it  as  the  means 
of  support.  I  was  educated  at  the  Military  Academy 
at  West  Point,  and  prepared  for  the  army,  but  never 


66 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


went  into  active  service,  for  I  resigned  at  the  end  of  my 
fourth  year,  and  commenced  the  study  of  law  in  South 
Carolina,  thinking  the  law  a  less  dangerous  way  of 
achieving  honors  than  the  sword.  Whenever  I  failed 
in  any  enterprise  I  fell  back  on  music;  it  was  my 
sheet-anchor. 

But  I  would  avoid  the  charge  of  egotism.  My  ballads 
are  (or rather  were)  well  known  throughout  the  country; 
for  I  have  not  published  for  many  years.  Why?  the 
reader  may  ask.  For  the  simple  reason  that  it  does  not 
pay  the  author;  the  publisher  pockets  all,  and  gets  rich 
on  the  brains  of  the  poor  fool  who  is  chasing  that  ignis 
fatuus,  reputation. 

While  editing  or  writing  for  various  journals,  I  did 
not  neglect  my  profession,  during  the  practice  of  which 
I  became  acquainted  with  nearly  all  of  my  compeers. 
Among  those  who  flourished  during  the  existence  of  the 
Minerva,  I  may  name  Charles  Meineke,  Arthur  Clifton 
(Corri),  J.  Ninninger,  the  brothers  Grilles,  E.  Shaw,  J. 
Gosden,  Henry  Dielman,  R.  Bunyie,  &c. 

Charles  Meineke  was  a  fine  pianist  as  well  as  organist. 
A  German  by  birth,  he  possessed  the  German  faculty  of 
amassing  mone}^,  leading  a  bachelor's  life  and  economis- 
ing to  a  miserly  extent.  He  was  a  quiet,  unobtrusive 
man,  easy  in  his  manners,  and  when  he  died  he  left  a 
large  property  to  his  relatives  in  Europe.  He  composed 
many  secular  songs  as  well  as  sacred,  and  his  piano 
music,  generally  variations,  was  quite  popular.  He 
died  in  1850. 

Clifton's  real  name  was  Arthur  Corri.  He  was  an 
Englishman  by  birth,  and  the  son  of  the  celebrated 
Corri  of  London,  an  Italian.  The  reason  for  his  chang- 
ing his  name  when  he  came  to  this  country  was  of  a 
domestic  nature,  and  I  therefore  avoid  giving  it.  He 
was  a  musician  of  talent ;  composed  many  songs,  duetts 
and  glees;  also  the  opera  of  the  "Enterprise,"  which 
brought  out  the  vocal  talent  of  Mrs.  Burke  (afterwards 
Mrs.  Jefferson)  on  the  boards  of  the  old  Holliday  Street 
Theatre.  Many  of  his  songs  w^ere  very  popular;  they 
were  all  in  the  English  style.   He  was  a  handsome  man, 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


67 


but  a  man  of  care,  always  brooding  over  the  miseries 
of  life;  looking  on  the  dark  side,  never  the  bright. 
Nevertheless,  when  in  company  he  was  full  of  wit  and 
anecdote,  and  one  of  the  staunchest  pillars  of  the  Ana- 
creontic Society.  He  was  found  dead  in  his  bed,  some 
averring  that  he  died  of  a  broken  heart,  his  domestic 
misfortunes  having  been  given  to  the  public. 

There  were  two  brothers  Ninninger,  both  violinists, 
and  men  of  decided  talent,  always  ready  to  render  their 
services  on  charitable  occasions  or  public  festivals. 

The  brothers  Gilles  were  Italians.  The  elder  one  was 
the  greatest  hautboy  player  of  the  times,  and  the 
younger  figured  as  a  violoncello  performer  of  extra 
ability.  They  came  to  the  United  States  with  Tibeaux, 
Atinelli  and  Ostinelli,  on  a  concertizing  expedition, 
which  they  commenced  in  Kew  York.  The  Gilleses 
taught  according  to  the  Italian  system  of  vocal  music, 
then  much  in  vogue,  and  were  very  popular  with  the 
upper  classes  of  society. 

Rial  Shaw  is,  at  this  present  writing,  still  living  in 
Baltimore.  He  taught  vocal  music  exclusively  in 
classes,  generally  sacred.  He  published  some  small 
works  on  vocalization,  and  followed  the  Petzilozian 
system  of  instruction.  He  was  for  many  years  a 
teacher  in  the  Public  Schools. 

Mr,  Gosden  died  some  years  since.  He  was  an  Eng- 
lishman by  birth,  and  one  of  the  finest  flute  players  in 
the  countrj^  He  composed  a  nuaiber  of  ballads,  but 
very  few  of  them  became  popular. 

Bobert  Bunyie  was  a  braw  Scotchman,  tall  and  muscu- 
lar. He  was  a  maestro  of  the  contra-basso,  and  used. to 
figure  in  the  orchestras  of  the  theatres  and  at  concerts. 
He  also  was  quite  a  proficient  on  the  union  pipes,  and 
frequently  set  all  the  dogs  in  the  neighborhood  of  Gay 
street  to  howling  when  he  executed  a  Highland  fling  or 
a  Scotch  strathspey  with  his  favorite  chaunters.  He  was 
very  popular  with  the  musical  fraternity,  and  died 
possessing  some  property. 

Henry  Bielman  was  then  in  his  prime,  and  took  the 
lead  as  the  first  violinist  in  Baltimore.    He  was  also  an 


68 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


excellent  pianist,  organist  and  flutist.  His  talents  were 
versatile,  his  person  prepossessing,  his  manners  gentle- 
manly, and  his  disposition  amiable.  Of  course,  with  all 
these  enviable  qualities,  he  was  very  popular,  particu- 
larly with  the  ladies,  whose  hearts  he  won  by  Ms 
touching  delivery  of  tender  melodies  on  his  favorite 
instrument.  He  was  also  a  composer  of  considerable 
merit,  so  far  as  instrumental  music  was  concerned.  His 
ballads  never  took  with  the  public.  I  have  passed  many 
a  happy  hour  with  Dielman,  socially  and  musically,  and 
always  found  him  companionable.  I  could  relate  many 
anecdotes  of  my  friend,  but  withhold  them  from  personal 
motives.  He  was  the  first  in  this  country  to  receive 
the  degree  of  Mus.  Doc,  or  Doctor  of  Music.  It  was 
bestowed  on  him  by  the  faculty  of  Georgetown  Uni- 
versity, and  presented  to  him  by  General  Taylor,  then 
President  of  the  United  States.  Dielman  is  at  the 
present  time  residing  in  Emmittsburg,  Md.,  and  has 
been  for  many  j^ears  attached  to  the  college  in  that 
place  as  professor  of  music. 

Frederick  Lucchesi  also  held  a  prominent  position  as 
teacher  of  music.  He  was  a  fine  flute  player,  and  a  good 
teacher  of  vocal  music  and  thorough  bass.  He  was 
rather  an  irritable  man  ;  ultra  in  his  notions,  but  always 
a  true  friend.  I  remember  him  when  he  played  the 
piccolo  in  the  band  at  West  Point,  then  under  the 
leadership  of  the  well-kn  own  Richard  Willis.  He  was 
a  small  boy  then,  probably  about  fourteen  years  of  age, 
and  excited  the  admiration  of  all  by  his  skill  in  hand- 
ling his  tiny  instrument.  He  has  been  dead  several 
years. 

Julius  MuUer,  an  excellent  man  and  a  very  popular 
teacher  and  composer,  is  still  with  us.  His  pianoforte 
compositions  are  numerous  and  meet  with  a  ready  sale. 

Augustus  Metz^  his  brother-in-law,  began  his  career  in 
the  days  of  which  I  now  write.  He  is  a  violinist  of 
musical  repute,  and  has  frequently  led  orchestras,  not 
only  at  theatres,  but  on  very  important  occasions.  Mr. 
Metz,  I  believe,  has  composed  but  little,  having  devoted 
himself  industriously  to  teaching.  He  is  a  very  amiable 
man  and  an  excellent  musician. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


69 


Albert  Holland  is  a  native  of  Baltimore,  and  for  many 
years  was  known  as  the  leader  of  the  Independent 
Blues  Band.  He  is  a  very  popular  teacher,  and  a  good 
arranger  and  composer  of  military  music.  His  lady  is 
an  excellent  vocalist  and  an  amiable  woman.  They 
both  enjoy  a  great  degree  of  popularity. 

James  M,  Deems  was,  I  believe,  originally  a  pupil  of 
Eoundtree,  the  originator  of  several  military  bands. 
He  displayed  great  musical  talent  when  quite  young, 
and  when  Eoundtree  died,  took  charge  of  the  Blues 
Band,  which  he  conducted  for  some  time.  He  was  an 
excellent  performer  on  the  cornet-a-piston,  and  quite  an 
adept  on  other  instruments.  Such  was  the  talent  he 
displayed  that  he  was  sent  to  Europe  to  complete  his 
musical  education,  studying  under  the  celebrated 
maestro  Doutzour.  On  the  occasion  of  his  leaving  this 
country  he  was  entrusted  with  Grovernment  dispatches. 
On  his  return  to  his  native  city  he  commenced  his  pro- 
fession in  downright  earnest,  and  has  prospered.  When 
the  unfortunate  unpleasantness  "  between  North  and 
South  took  place,  he  volunteered  in  the  Union  army, 
and  received  the  commission  of  Lieutenant-colonel  of 
Cavalry.  His  experience  on  the  field  of  glory  he  knows 
best.himself,  and  can  recount  his  ^'hair-breadth  'scapes" 
with  considerable  good  humor  to'his  numerous  friends. 
On  his  retiring  from  the  army  the  Government  re- 
warded him  with  a  complimentary  commission  of 
Brigadier-general.  Deems  is  an  excellent  musician  and 
a  faithful  teacher.  He  is  a  theorist  of  the  highest 
order,  and  has  composed  many  heavy  works ;  some  of 
his  lighter  productions  have  been  given  to  the  public. 

William,  Harman^  also  a  native  of  Baltimore,  went  to 
Europe  to  study  music,  and  came  back,  I  presume,  a 
proficient,  for  the  atmosphere  of  the  old  world  seems 
better  calculated  than  our  own  for  the  advancement  of 
knowledge.  Mr.  Harman  has  been  for  many  years  a 
popular  and  very  attentive  instructor,  and  is  withal  an 
amiable  and  accomplished  gentleman. 

F,  Nicholls  Grouch.  Everybody  knows,  or  has  heard 
of  the  song  entitled '^Kathleen  Mavourneen,"  though 


70 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


very  few  who  have  shed  tears  over  the  tender  appeal 
of  the  poor  Irish  lover,  know  the  composer  F.  N. 
Crouch ;  an  enthusiastic  musician,  a  free-hearted  com- 
panion, a  good  lecturer,  a  scholar  and  a  fearless  soldier. 
He  has  composed  over  2000  songs,  all  possessing  more 
or  less  merit,  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  but  two  of 
them  have  become  really  popular,  "  Kathleen  Mavour- 
neen  "  and  Dermot  Astore."  The  words  of  the  former 
(by  Mrs.  Crawford)  flow  beautifully  with  the  melody, 
with  the  exception  of  one  line,  which  the  authoress 
evidently  wrote  with  the  intention  of  bothering  Cockney 
vocalists,  who  sing  it  in  this  manner : 

The  'orn  of  the  'unter  his  'eard  hon  the  'ill. 

Crouch  is,  with  all  his  eccentricities,  a  pleasant  com- 
panion ;  full  of  anecdote,  and  a  great  admirer  of  the  fine 
arts.  I  have  passed  many  a  pleasant  evening  in  his 
company.  During  the  late  domestic  war  he  figured  as 
a  trumpeter  to  a  Confederate  battery  of  mounted  artil- 
lery. He  took  copious  notes  of  camp-life,  and  kept  a 
diary  of  events  with  the  intention  of  publishing  a 
history  of  the  war,  but  an  unfortunate  order  from  head- 
quarters deprived  the  reading  world  of  the  pleasure  of 
a  perusal  of  the  work.  The  troops  were  on  a  forced 
march,  and  Stonewall  Jackson  issued  orders  that  all 
superfluous  baggage  of  the  ofiicers  and  men  should  be 
burnt.  Crouch's  MSS.  were  committed  to  the  flames! 
He  wore  the  Confederate  uniform  long  after  the  sur- 
render of  General  Lee  at  Appomattox. 

Mr.  Crouch  is,  at  this  present  writing,  a  resident  of 
Baltimore,  and  gives  general  satisfaction  as  a  teacher 
of  vocal  and  instrumental  music.  He  was  formerly  a 
member  of  the  "Eoyal  Academy  of  Music,''  the  Lon- 
don Philharmonic  Society"  and  Her  Majesty's  Opera. 
Besides  numerous  ballads,  he  has  managed  to  compose 
two  operas,  Sir  Koger  de  Coverley  "  and  The  Fifth 
of  ISlovember,  1670";  also  complete  works  entitled 
"Select  Drawing-room  Ballads"  and  ''Pleasant  Memo- 
ries." 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


71 


Let  me  again  leave  the  present  period,  and  go  back 
to  the  celebrities  of  former  days. 

John  Cole.    I  feel  disposed  to  dwell  at  length  on  nay 
recollections  of  John  Cole.    He  was  a  teacher  of  music, 
and  subsequently  a  publisher  of  music  of  Baltimore. 
Mr.  Cole  was  an  Englishman,  and  migrated  to^  this 
country  at  an  early  age.    He  was  originally  a  clarionet 
player  of  some  merit,  and  taught  vocal  music  in  classes. 
He  was  an  excellent  man,  pleasant  as  a  companion  and 
useful  as  a  citizen.    The  musical  public  are  indebted  to 
him  for  many  beautiful  anthems  and  set  pieces;  also 
glees,  in  the  true  English  style.    For  many  years  he 
was  leader  of  various  church  choirs  and  vocal  societies. 
He  used  to  describe  with  great  gusto  a  military  band 
he  once  had  under  his  charge,  at  the  beginning^  of  his 
professional  career.    His  clarionet  was  the  leading  in- 
strument ;  the  subordinates  were  a  violin,  Kent  bugle, 
serpent  and  bassoon,  accompanied  by  a  bass  drum. 
The  selection  of  tunes  was  very  limited.    On  great  oc- 
casions they  would  perform  Washington's  March,  or 
Bonaparte   Crossing  the   Alps;  Hail  Columbia  and 
Yankee  Doodle  for  patriotic  purposes.    Their  quick 
marches  were  usually  "  The  Girl  I  left  behind  me," 
"Marlbrook,"  *'Eoad  to  Boston"  and  "Monymusk." 
With  these  they  made  the  militia  boys  tramp  briskly 
through  the  streets,  and  never  failed  to  gather  a  motley 
escort  of  ragged  urchins  and  grinning  negroes. 

Eoundtree  succeeded  him  in  the  arena  of  military 
music,  and  soon  organized  a  band  which  was  creditable 
to  himself  and  the  city.  Mr.  Cole  did  not,  however, 
long  practise  music  as  a  profession.  He  purchased  Mr. 
Carr's  stock  of  music  and  entered  into  the  publishing 
and  music-selling  business,  which  he  adhered  to  almost 
to  the  day  of  his  death. 

George  Willig,  the  well-known  music  publisher,  died 
recently  at  the  ripe  old  age  of  eighty-one.  He  was  the 
son  of  George  Willig  of  Philadelphia,  one  of  the  oldest 
publishers  in  the  United  States.  His  store  was  the 
resort  of  many  of  the  musical  celebrities  of  times  past, 
and  the  issues  of  his  press  were  generally  of  a  classic 


72 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


order,  though  he  secured  the  copyright  of  many  a 
popular  pianoforte  composition  and  ballads  that  lived 
beyond  the  usual  span.  He  was  a  man  of  noble  traits 
of  character;  hospitable,  generous  and  amiable;  social 
in  his  habits,  and  a  staunch  friend  when  once  he  took  a 
liking.  From  his  establishment  sprang  those  of  F.  D. 
Benteen  and  Henry  McCaffrey,  who  were  both  clerks 
of  his.  Benteen,  with  Mr.  Willig's  aid,  purchased  the 
stock  of  John  Cole  &  Son,  and  through  his  industry  and 
perseverance,  made  a  comfortable  fortune,  though  his 
ill-health  did  not  permit  him  to  enjoy  it.  He  died  in 
1862,  and  his  establishment  fell  into  the  hands  of  Miller 
&  Beecham,  both  his  clerks.  Since  Mr.  Willig's  early 
days,  many  improvements  have  been  made  in  the  art  of 
stamping  and  printing  sheet  music.  If  any  one  would 
note  the  difference,  let  him  compare  the  publications  of 
the  beginning  of  this  century  with  those  of  the  present 
day.  G-eorge  Willig  kept  pace  with  the  times,  and 
the  publications  of  his  house,  at  the  present  day,  will 
compare  favorably  with  any  like  establishment  in  the 
country.  For  some  time  Mr.  Willig  was  President  of 
the  Board  of  Trade,  and  was  highly  esteemed  by  the 
members  of  that  body,  not  only  for  his  honesty  and 
probity,  but  for  his  suavity  of  manners  and  genial  dis- 
position. In  Baltimore  his  friends  were  numerous,  and 
mourned  his  departure  from  among  them,  for  he  was 
public-spirited,  and  ever  had  an  extended  hand  for  the 
poor  and  needy.  His  store,  with  its  old  and  well  estab- 
lished custom,  is  now  in  the  hands  of  his  two  industrious 
and  enterprising  sons. 

C,  Eisenhrandt^  the  celebrated  musical  instrument 
maker,  was  a  man  of  gentle  and  unobtrusive  manners, 
and  a  fine  flute,  clarionet  and  bassoon  player.  He  was 
a  remarkably  industrious  man;  and  his  wind  instru- 
ments won  the  medals  in  all  the  industrial  fairs  in  this 
country,  and  many  in  Europe.  They  were  remarkable 
for  their  richness  of  tone  and  beauty  of  workmanship, 
and  received  the  praises  of  the  best  masters.  He 
always  finished  his  instruments  himself,  and  employed 
but  one  assistant — a  man  to  saw  and  split  the  blocks  of 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


73 


ebony  and  cocoawood.  He  died,  leaving  a  good  name 
and  a  comfortable  property  to  his  family.  His  son 
carries  on  the  establishmento 

L  T,  Stoddard^  a  vocalist  and  pianist  of  much  merit, 
whose  "  Evergreen  Waltz  "  outstripped  everything  in 
the  way  of  editions,  was  a  partner  of  mine  in  a  music 
academy ;  and  together  we  introduced  into  Baltimore 
the  system  of  vocal  class  teaching  at  present  used  in  the 
public  schools.  He  has  retired  from  the  profession  ; 
having,  many  years  since^  taken  charge  of  the  sales  de- 
partment of  Knabe  &  Co.'s  extensive  piano  factory. 
He  was  always  an  active  business  man  and  an  accom- 
plished teacher. 

Dr.  (7.  T,  Percival  came  to  this  city  many  j^ears  ago, 
in  some  way  connected  with  an  English  opera  troupe. 
He  was  a  good  vocalist  and  expert  pianist,  and  at  one 
time  directed  the  Durand  opera  company  in  such 
operas  as  La  Sonnambula,"  "  Era  Diavolo,"  The 
Daughter  of  the  Eegiment,"  &c.  He  obtained  his 
degree  of  M.  D,  while  at  the  South,  and  practised 
physic  as  well  as  taught  music.  He  is  an  amiable  and 
industrious  man,  and  at  present  one  of  the  vocal 
teachers  in  the  public  schools. 

I  will  wind  up  the  musical  part  of  my  recollections 
with  an  allegro  finale.  Among  my  compeers  in  times 
past  who  are  still  residing  in  Baltimore,  and  profitably 
carrying  out  their  destiny,  I  may  make  honorable 
mention  of  Ernest  Szemelanyi,  an  expatriated  Hunga- 
rian, accomplished  gentleman,  and  excellent  pianist  and 
composer;  Charles  Gola  ;  James  and  Dominick  May, 
industrious  and  capable  teachers;  Henry  Schwing,  a 
scholar  and  thorough  musician,  and  Joseph  Gegan,  the 
accomplished  conductor  of  the  Cathedral  choir.        .  ^ 

There  are  several  flourishing  pianoforte  ^oiories  in 
Baltimore,  the  oldest  of  whkth  is  Wiu.  Anabe  &  Co. 
having  been  established  over  thirty-five  years  ago  by 
the  firm  of  Knabe  &  Gaehle,  both  of  whom  have  passed 
away.  William  Knabe,  the  lather  of  the  present  prin- 
cipals of  the  firm,  was  a  man  of  energy  and  enterprise 
and  a  kind-hearted  gentleman.    He  was  popular  with 


74 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


the  profession,  hence  the  secret  of  his  success;  still  the 
real  merits  of  the  iDStrnments  laanufactured  by  the 
firm  warranted  the  teachers  in  recommending  them. 
The  present  firm  has  a  branch  establishment  in  ]New 
York;  Ernest  Knabe  being  a  pushing  man,  and  not 
afraid  to  "  beard  the  lion  in  his  den."  The  peculiarities 
of  the  Knabe  pianos  are,  their  strength  of  construction, 
the  sweetness,  power  and  purity  of  their  tone,  and 
durability ;  besides,  the  touch  is  pleasant  and  elastic. 
At  the  various  State  Fairs  throughout  the  country  the 
Knabe  pianos  have  invariably  received  gold  medals  or 
high  premiums. 

The  factory  of  Charles  M.  Stieff  is  the  next  in  age  to 
Knabe  &  Co.  It  was  established  by  the  elder  Charles 
Stietf  some  twenty-five  years  ago.  He  was  a  professor 
of  music,  but  wisely  abandoned  so  thankless  and  profit- 
less a  calling  for  one  that  foreshadowed  something  like 
gain.  Mr.  Stieff  was  a  man  of  energy,  and,  notwith- 
standing the  opposition  he  had  to  contend  with,  he 
pushed  ahead,  and  finally  succeeded  in  placing  his 
factory  on  a  permanent  basis.  On  his  death,  his  sons 
took  charge  with  even  more  vim  than  the  father,  and 
added  new  fame  to  the  establishment.  The  Stieff  in- 
struments are  popular,  particularly  in  the  South,  and 
over  twelve  hundred  have  been  distributed  through- 
out the  Southern  States.  Since  the  close  of  the  war 
five  hundred  pianos  have  been  purchased  by  Yirginians, 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  by  North  Carolinians, 
and  the  balance  throughout  South  Carolina,  Georgia, 
Alabama  and  Florida.  "The  Stieff  piano  is  noted  for  its 
richness  and  volume  of  tone,  ease  of  touch,  and  richness 
of  cabinet  w^orkmanship.  The  factories  in  84  and  86 
Camden  street  and  46  and  47  Perry  street  are  extensive 
a:id  iii  full  operation.  . 

The  mub^.^i  '  taste  of  Baltimore  people  forty  years  ago 
was  elevated,  tJae  'Italian  being  the  fashionable  school. 
It  is  now  happily  blended  with  the  solid  German  ;  the 
liP'ht  beauty  of  the  ont  .ningling  nicely  with  the  classic 
grandeur  of  the  other.  At  that  period  negro  minstrelsy 
was  unknown,  except  through  the  grotesque  posturing 


I  75 
OR,  GLIMPSES  O.  \T. 

E 

and  husky  warbling  of  Tom  Eice,  the  original  "  Jim 
Crow  "  Our  native  ballads  were  pure  ;  no  mongrel  olf- 
snring  of  Scotch  jigs  and  plantation  refrains  Sorae 
K  oratorios  had  bein  produced  in  Baltimore.  As  early 
as  1821  the  oratorio  of  the  "Creation  "  Haydn's  mastei^ 
p  ace,  was  performed  at  the  Cathedral  by  nearly  200 
vocalists  ;  the  orchestra  being  strong  and  efficient,  ihe 
Bnghsh  opera  also  thrived  with  Messrs.  Philhps  and 
Sair  •  Mrs.  Austin  and  Miss  George  as  the  leading 
aUraSns.  In  fact,  Baltimore  has  always  extended 
encouragement  to  music.  Her  concerts  have  been  well 
patronized  and  her  teachers  well  sustained. 

Musical  Anecdotes. 

There  were  wild  and  frolicsome  young  men  in  former 
times,  as  well  as  there  are  at  the  present  period,  and  i 
feel  disposed  to  record  some  of  their  mischievous  sports. 
The  exposure  can  do  no  harm,  but  may  excite  a  smile 
on  the  features  of  their  descendants. 

The  police  organization  in  my  younger  days  was  not 
as  perfect  as  it  is  now.  There  were  a  few  drowsy  Irish 
and  German  watchmen,  who  moped  thi-ough  the  streets 
one- part  of  the  night  and  slept  the  other ;  though,  in 
order  that  the  people  might  know  that  they  yei-e  doing 
their  duty  on  their  beats,  or  more  likely  to  let  the 
thieves  know  that  they  were  about,  were  compelled  to 
cry  the  hour,  which  they  did  with  a  spasmodic  exertion, 
roaring  on  the  first  word  and  squeaking  on  the  last. 
"It's  past  one  o'clock,  and  a  cloudy  morning!  cer- 
tainly awoke  the  sleepers  and  put  the  robbers  on  their 
guard.  Besides  these  merits,  the  cry  generally  awoke 
all  the  dogs,  cats,  geese  and  pea-fowls  in  the  city,  and 
the  chorus  became  general.  -s  >  u  n,^ 

These  guardians  of  the  night  were  called  by  the 
young  bloods  "Charlies,"  and  cald  be  bribed  at  any 
time  to  say  nothing  about  the  matter,  if  a  funny  fellow 
was  caught  in  the  act  of  upsetting  him  and  his  watcli- 
box  while  he  was  "  stealing  forty  winks." 

Several  of  us  undertook  a  grand  serenade  on  JNew 


''^  SyS  OMrZ'VM  THE  WALL; 

'  Iffh  K  ^^^-^   ^^^^sbed  to  usher  in  the  young  year 
with  becoming  solemnity,  not  exactly  in  thf  form  of  a 

t  umtt?'' wf'"       ^'S"       ^^^"^^'^^  °f  musical  in 
struments.    We  were  all  considered  good  musicians 

r.st.  responsible  for  the  bad-co^5  ioned 

instruments  we  used  ;  they  being  an  organ  with  about 
a  dozen  asthmatic  pipes,  two  cracked  claf  ionrts  severa 
fish-horns,  a  broken  drum,  half  a  dozen  penny  t;umpets 
and  a  sheet-iron  gono- 1  This  banrl  rvf  ^1.7+1  '''^^'VP®'^^' 
started  on  their^e^enading  ^f^ZZ'TZ 
city  was  the  first  victim,  ifis  Honor  got  aldose  that 
made  his  ears  tingle.  * 

A  Charley  ^stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
listening  to  soft  strains,  and  drinking  in  the  exquisite 
harmony  of  the  sj>ears.  When  we  had  concluded  our 
to  prS  *^jV«'^"-y»dividual  took  it  into  his^'head 
to  protest.    He  crossed  over  and  said  : 

(xintlemm,  be  me  faith  that  isn't  music  at  all  at  all 
You  must  be  afther  stopping  it  "  ' 
_  "  Pshaw !  my  good  fellow,"  I  replied    "  you're  no 

overture  foLodoiS'' 
..nn  ^         r^'f  ''^      overturn  of  a  load  o'  whiskey  for 
JnTteSLrii^e"'"^  ^-'^ -nd 

And  so  he  subsided  for  awhile,  and  the  band  struck 
up  again  with  a  perfect  chaos  of  sounds. 

®^,<^P' stop. -'"exclaimed  Charley.    "I  know  enou2-h 
to  tell  what  IS  music  and  what  isn't.    By  St  Patr  ck 
that  isn't  music  at  all."  ^  -rairicK, 

That's  the  overture  to  Fra  Diavolo,"  said  I. 
musS''  '  «l^«^vyou  the  beautiful 

eenJill''t'?'^"f.*''''  rf**''  ^-^olently,  while  we  made  a 
St^H  K  ^'T^""?'''/'^  e^eept  the  unfortunate  Jacob 
Bradenbaugh.  who  h..d  the  heavy  hand-or<.an  stranned 

betm:clpSs.^"""P°°  ''"'^"^  -g- 

irish';^;n!':xuE:.if '  ^Yo^^l:lr  ^^^'---^^ 

and  disturbing  th^'j^blic^prcilwIl^eH"^  "'^^^ 


OJ?,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 

The  poor  fellow  had  to  trudge  off,  but  soon  a  lucky 
thought  struck  him  and  he  stopped. 

"1  can't  carry  this  heavy  organ  all  the  way  to  the 
watch-house,"  s^id  he  to  the  Charley  and  I  cant 
leave  it  behind,  because  it's  too  valuable. 

"  It's  all  right,"  replied  tlie  watchman ;  "  I'll  bear  the 
hnrden  uv  it  meself.  I  will."  .   

So  he  transferred  the  strap  of  the  heavy  instrument 

from  Bradenbaugh's  shoulders  to  his  o^"-  J*^^  ^J^f^f^ 
was  this  done  than  the  prisoner  gave  leg-bai'.  and  lett 
7he  helpless  Charley  turning  his  rattle  violently  to  no 
rmrpose^  for  the  pigLn  had  flown.  The  captured  organ 
STreturned  to  M?.  Cole's  music-store  the  next  morning. 

Ambrose,  formerly  leader  of  the  Holliday  Street 
Theatre  oi'chestra,  was  a  highly  ^xcitabk  ma^  a 
musical  euthusiast,  and  extremely  methodical  in  his 
fceSorship  When  the  celebrated  Fanny  BUsler  visited 
Baltimore,  of  course  there  was  great  excitement,  particu- 
larly among  the  Germans.  Ambrose  had  a  good 
oichesia  uSder  his  control,  but  the  trombone  player 
was  a  very  nervous  man,  and  timid  withal. 

It  a  rehearsal  of  the  "  Tarantella,"  or  mad  dance,  for 
which  Fanny  was  so  celebrated,  there  was  much  trouble 
with  this  neVvous  trombonist.  At  a  certain  pomt  of  the 
dance  there  was  a  wild  twirl  of  the  danseuse,  and  then 
she  threw  herself  suddenly  on  her  great  toe.  At  this 
point  the  trombone  had  a  crashing  solo  of  one  staccato 
note,  given  just  as  the  nymph  poises  herself.  Fanny 
went  through  the  movement  several  times  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  trombonist  and  at  last  the 
effect  was  produced  ;  the  toe  and  the  explosive  note 

''''^Dlush'vere  goot  1  "  remarked  Ambrose  blandly  to 
encourage  the  nervous  man.  "Now  mind  you  do  him 
?o  night'jes  same  so;  if  you  do  not,  I  will  blows  your 
nose  wis  my  fist."  ^    r^-i  ^■ 

At  night  the  house  was  crowded,  and  Chevalier 
Wikoff,who  had  brought  the  sylph  over  to  this  country 
on  a  speculation,  surveyed  the  sea  of  heads  with  much 


78 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


complacency.  The  fascinating  Fanny  bounded  on  the 
stage  like  a  thing  of  air,  the  orchestra  aided  her  in  her 
frantic  evolutions  during  the  quick  movements  of  the 
weird  dance.  The  whirl  was  made  around  the  stage, 
she  threw  herself  gracefully  upon  the  great  toe  of  her 
right  foot.  At  that  critical  moment  Ambrose  brought 
down  his  baton  for  the  trombone  solo  ;  but  the  con- 
fused musician  was  just  then  placing  his  lips  to  the 
mouth-piece  of  the  instrument,  and  the  dancer's  foot 
fell  about  two  seconds  before  the  brazen  blast  was 
heard.  The  effect,  of  course,  caused  merriment  instead 
of  admiration. 

Ambrose,  forgetting  himself  in  the  excitement,  put 
down  his  violin  and  exclaimed  : 

^'  Vill  anybody  pull  my  hair  ?  "  while  his  usually  good 
natured  face  expressed  the  utmost  agony. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  the  dance  was  a 
failure  that  night  at  least,  and  the  trombonist  lost  his 
place,  and  reputation  too,  for  being  tardy  in  taking  up  his 
note, 

Fritz  Beiglin.  Fritz  was  as  generous  and  noble- 
hearted  a  German  as  ever  sought  an  asylam  in  this 
*'land  of  the  free  and  home  of  the  brave."  There  are 
many  now  living  who  may  remember  him,  for  he  died 
but  recently. 

He  had  an  uncommonly  fine  tenor  voice,  and  sang  in 
the  Tyrolean  style  with  considerable  effect.  He  fre- 
quently sang  at  concerts  for  the  benefit  of  friends,  or 
same  charitable  purpose,  for  he  was  not  a  professional 
vocalist. 

Desirous  of  making  a  little  money — at  any  rate  suffi- 
cient to  support  his  family — he  built  a  "fish-house"  on 
the  borders  of  '^Spring  G-arden,"  opposite  the  present 
terminus  of  Eutaw  street.  Here  he  welcomed  his  pisca- 
torial and  musical  friends  with  his  perpetual  smile,  and 
served  them  with  fish  suppers  and  good  cheer.  His 
clear  voice  would  ring  through  the  rocky  glens  and  on 
the  bosom  of  the  calm  waters  of  a  moonlight  night,  to 
the  great  delight  of  the  visitors,  while  his  amiable  frau 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST.  79 

and  pretty  daughter  prepared  the  repast  for  the  tired 
anglers. 

His  daughter  was  a  second  Helen  Douglas,  as  she  was 
accustomed  to  paddle  her  light  canoe"  morning  and 
evening  along  the  shore,  and  sometimes  even  over  the 
Patapsco  river,  much  to  the  admiration  of  the  disciples 
of  old  Isaac  Walton,  as  they  sat  bobbing  for  eels.  Her 
form  was  sylph-like,  and  her  auburn  hair,  loosened  from 
confining  bands,  waved  freely  on  the  breeze  as  she 
skimmed  lightly  over  the  surface  of  the  waters,  singing 
her  merry  song.  Colonel  Fitzgerald,  the  editor  of  the 
Philadelphia  City  Item,  while  on  a  visit  to  Baltimore, 
made  quite  a  flattering  notice  of  the  beautiful  naiad  in 
bis  journal  when  he  returned  to  his  home. 

It  was  at  Fritz's  rural  dwelling  that  many  of  the 
musical  characters  of  the  day  would  gather  and  while 
away  the  sultry  summer  evening.  The  "Baltimore 
Glee  Club;'  of  which  he  was  a  member,  frequently  met 
there,  and  made  the  night  eloquent  with  their  vocal 
harmony.  ^      .  „ 

The  origin  of  the  glee  entitled  "Bee's  Wmg  and  Kish 
is  not  generally  known  ;  I  will,  therefore,  give  it  to  the 
unenlightenedo 

One  day,  when  the  club  had  partaken  of  Fritz's 
excellent  fare,  it  was  proposed  to  celebrate  the  occasion 
by  an  original  composition.  Henry  Dielman  and  myself 
were  selected  by  the  company  to  carry  out  the  proposi- 
tion. In  a  few  moments  I  furnished  the  words  and  gave 
them  to  Dielman,  who  stretched  himself  upon  the  grass, 
and  with  a  lead-pencil  composed  the  music  on  a  loose 
sheet  of  music  paper,  and  arranged  the  harmony  for  two 
tenors,  baritone,  and  bass.  In  less  than  a  half-hour  a 
quartette  party  was  singing  it  with  pretty  effect.  They 
were  Munroe,  Owings,  Thomas,  and  Burneston;  and  so 
pleased  were  the  company  present,  including  several 
ladies,  that  it  was  called  for  several  times.  It  was  sub- 
sequently published  by  Benteen,  and  I  believe  is  sung 
to  this  da3^  Henry  Kussell,  the  vocalist,  was  one  of  the 
party. 

The  subject  of  this  paper  was  generally  known  as 


80 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


honest  Fritz."  He  died  about  a  year  ago  at  the  Aged 
Men's  Home/'  at  the  ripe  age  of  seventy-seven,  of 
chronic  rheumatism,  a  complaint  which  clung  to  him 
during  many  of  the  last  years  of  his  life.  Besides  being 
one  of  the  most  active  members  of  the  Glee  Club/'  he 
attached  himself  to  various  musical  societies,  and  was 
for  many  years  a  member  of  the  choir  of  St.  Martin's 
Church. 

Sandy  Jemison.    Everybody  knows  Sandy  Jemison, 
the  popular  leader  of  the  Holliday  Street  Theatre 
orchestra,  and  various  other  bands.    He  is  not  in  the 
midst  of  us  now,  being  in  the  far  West,  scraping  his 
Cremona  for  a  living  ;  but  the  vision  of  his  ruddy  face 
and  snow-white  beard  still  haunts  us.    Sandy  is  a  rara 
avis,  as  full  of  fun  as  an  alderman's  paunch  is  of  the 
good  things  at  a  Mayor's  dinner.    He  is  of  Scotch 
descent,  and  has  at  this  time  probably  passed  the  limits 
of  life  allowed  to  man  by  the  Holy  Book.    When  last  I 
heard  from  him  he  was  the  nomm<^f  leader  of  an  Orchestra 
at  Elsler's  Theatre,  Cleveland,  Ohio.    He  once,  while 
leading  at  the    Howard  Athenaeum  "  of  Baltimore,  slept 
through  the  entire  overture  to  '^Tancredi,"  and  was 
only  awakened  by  the  ringing  of  the  bell  for  the  rising 
of  the  curtain.    On  the  nights  of  his  benefits  he  invari- 
ably personated  the  fighting  Jakey,  and  garnished  the 
play  with  an  exhibition  of  the   manly  art "  in  a  scientific 
set-to  with  some  experienced  boxer.    On  one  occasion 
he  hired  a  number  of  tattered  and  shoeless  boys  to  give 
efPect  to  a  terrible  fireman's  row.    The  boys  took  the 
afi'air  in  earnest,  and  had  a  little  by-exhibition  of  muscle 
on  their  own  account  while  the  great  mill  was  going  on. 
Sandy's  temper  got  the  upper-hand  of  him,  and  he 
pitched  in  with  a  vim,  making  his  mark  in  bloody  noses 
and  black  eyes.    The  curtain  descended  in  the  midst 
of  great  confusion,  in  order  that  the  stage  might  be 
cleared  of  the  maimed  and  bleeding  heroes,  and  the 
audience  were  allowed  time  to  "go  out  and  see  a  man" 
and  settle  the  bets. 

Henry  RusselL  The  descriptive  songs  and  ballads  of 
this  composer  and  vocalist  are  still  much  in  vogue.  He 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


81 


spent  much  of  his  time  in  Baltimore,  though  New  York 
was  his  headquarters.  In  person  he  was  rather  stout, 
but  not  tall.  His  face  was  quite  prepossessing,  of  the 
Hebrew  cast,  dark  and  heavy  whiskers  and  curly  hair. 
He  was  an  expert  at  wheedling  audiences  out  of  ap- 
plause, and  adding  to  the  effect  of  his  songs  by  a  brilliant 
pianoforte  accompaniment.  With  much  self-laudation 
he  used  often  to  describe  the  wonderful  influence  of  his 
descriptive  songs  over  audiences.  On  one  occasion  he 
related  an  incident  connected  with  Woodman,  Spare 
that  Tree.''  He  had  finished  the  last  verse  of  the  beau- 
tiful words,  written  by  his  highly  esteemed  friend,  Gen. 
George  P.  Morris.  The  audience  were  spell-bQund  for 
a  moment,  and  then  poured  out  a  volume  of  applause 
that  shook  the  building  to  its  foundation.  In  the  nriidst 
of  this  tremendous  evidence  of  their  boundless  gratifica- 
tion, a  snowv-headed  gentleman,  with  great  anxiety 
depicted  in  his  venerable  features,  arose  and  demanded 
silence.  He  asked,  with  a  tremulous  voice  :  "  Mr.  Eus- 
sell,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  tell  me,  was  the  tree 
spared  ?  "  "  It  was,  sir,"  replied  the  vocalist.  "  Thank 
God  !  thank  God  !  I  breathe  again  !  "  and  then  he  sat 
do*wn,  perfectly  overcome  by  his  emotions.  This  miser- 
able bombast  did  not  always  prove  a  clap-trap ;  in  many 
instances  it  drew  forth  hisses. 

Eussell's  voice  was  a  baritone  of  limited  register;  the 
few  good  notes  he  possessed  he  turned  to  advantage. 
His  Old  Arm-chair,"  for  instance,  has  but  five  notes 
in  its  melodic  construction.  This  was  one  of  his  most 
popular  songs;  its  circulation  was  outstripped  only  by 
^^Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave  "  and  "  I'm  Afloat,"  two  fine 
sea-songs.  The  history  of  the  former  is  thus  related: 
Some  thirty  years  ago,  Eussell  asked  Mr.  Epes  Sar- 
gent to  write  a  song  for  him,  leaving  the  subject  to  the 
author's  selection.  In  a  walk  on  the  Battery,  New 
York,  the  sight  of  the  vessels  in  the  harbor  dashing 
through  the  sparkling  waters  in  the  morning  sunshine, 
suggested  the  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave,"  and  the 
poet  had  finished  it  in  his  mind  before  the  walk  was 
completed.  Upon  showing  it  to  a  friend,  himself  a 
4=* 


82 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


song- writer,  his  criticism  was  that  it  was  "  a  very  fair 
lyric,  but  was  not  a  song."  Sargent,  somewhat  dis- 
heartened, put  the  verses  into  his  pocket,  concluding 
that  they  might  do  to  publish,  but  not  to  set  to  music. 
A  few  days  afterward  he  met  Mr.  Eussell  in  the  music 
store  of  J.  L.  Hewitt  &  Co.,  and  showed  him  the  lines, 
informing  him  at  the  same  time  that  they  would  not 
do,  but  that  he  would  try  again.  "Let  us  go  into  the 
piano-room,  and  try  it  on  the  instrument,"  said  Eussell. 
They  went.  Eussell  sat  down  before  the  piano,  placed 
the  words  before  him,  studied  them  attentively  for  a 
few  minutes,  humming  a  measure  as  he  read,  then 
threw  his  fingers  over  the  keys ;  tried  once,  'twice, 
thrice,  and  finally  exultingly  struck  out  the  present 
melody  to  which  '^Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave ''is  set. 
He  certainly  was  not  more  than  ten  minutes  about  it, 
though  he  gave  a  day  afterwards  to  scoring  and  writing 
out  the  music.  The  song  became  immensely  popular 
on  land,  and  many  thousands  were  sold  before  the  year 
was  out.  In  England  three  different  music-publishers 
have  issued  it  in  various  styles.  The  parodies  that 
have  been  made  on  it  are  almost  innumerable. 

Eussell  once  called  on  me  and  asked  me  to  write  him 
a  song  on  an  "  Old  Family  Clock,"  (he  was  remarkably 
fond  of  the  prefix  of  old  ;  a  wag  of  a  poet  once  sent  him 
some  words  addressed  to  an  "Old  Fine-tooth  Comb.") 
I  wrote  the  words.  He  then  changed  his  mind,  and 
employed  me,  promising  good  pay,  to  write  a  descriptive 
song  on  the  "  Drunkard,"  to  stir  up  the  temperance 
people.  I  pleased  him  much  by  beginning  the  song  in 
this  way:  "The  old  lamp  burned  on  the  old  oaken 
stool."  He  made  a  taking  affair  of  it;  and  he  made 
money  on  it  too,  but  I  never  even  got  his  promise  to 
pay.  He  slipped  off  to  England,  and  as  nothing  has 
been  heard  of  him  for  many  years,  I  suppose  he  is 
^*down  among  the  dead  men." 

Father  Heinrich.  The  eccentric  Anthony  Philip 
Heinrich,  generally  known  as  "Father  Heinrich," 
visited  Washington  while  I  resided  in  that  city,  with  a 
grand  musical  work  of  his,  illustrative  of  the  greatness 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST,  83 

and  o-lory  of  this  republic,  the  splendor  of  its  institu- 
tions and  the  indomitable  bijaverj^  of  its  arm.y  and  navy. 
This  work  Heinrich  wished  to  publish  by  subscription. 
He  had  many  names  on  his  list;  but,  as  he  wished  to 
dedicate  it  to  the  President  of  the  United  States,  and 
also  to  obtain  the  signatures  of  the  Cabinet  and  other 
high  officials,  he  thought  it  best  to  call  personally  and 
solicit  their  patronage. 

He  brought  with  him  a  number  of  letters  of  intro- 
duction, among  them  one  to  myself  from  my  brother,  a 
music-publisher  in  New  York.  I  received  the  old  gen- 
tleman  with  all  the  courtesy  due  to  bis  brilliant  musical 
talents;  and,  as  I  was  the  first  he  had  called  upon,  i 
tendered  him  the  hospitalities  of  my  house  — "pot- 
luck  "  and  a  comfortable  bed ;  promising  to  go  the 
rounds  with  him  on  the  following  morning  and  intro- 
duce him  to  President  Tyler,  (whose  daughter,  Ahce, 
was  a  pupil  of  mine,)  and  such  other  influential  men  as 
I  was  acquainted  with.  -u-  • 

Poor  Heinrich !  1  shall  never  forget  him.  lie  im- 
agined that  he  was  going  to  set  the  world  on  fire  with 
bis  "Dawning  of  Music  in  America";  but  alas  !  it  met 
with  the  same  fate  as  his  Castle  in  the  Moon  "  and 
Yankee  Doodliad."  . 
Two  or  three  hours  of  patient  hearing  did  I  give  to 
the  most  complicated  harmony  I  ever  heard,  even  in 
my  musical  dreams.  Wild  and  unearthly  passages, 
the  pianoforte  absolutely  groaning  under  them,  and 
*nhe  old  man  eloquent,"  with  much  self-satisfaction, 
arose  from  the  tired  instrument,  and  with  a  look  of 
triumph,  asked  me  if  1  had  ever  heard  music  like  that 
before  ?    I  certainly  had  not. 

At  a  proper  hour  we  visited  the  President's  mansion, 
and  after  some  ceremony  and  much  grumbling  on  the 
part  of  the  ^oliU  usher,  were  shown  into  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Tyler,  who  received  us  with  his  usual  urbanity. 
I  introduced  Mr.  Heinrich  as  a  professor  of  exalted 
talent  and  a  man  of  extraordinary  genius.  The  Presi- 
dent after  learning  the  object  of  our  visit,  which  he 
was  glad  to  learn  was  not  to  solicit  an  office,  readily 


84 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


consented  to  the  dedication,  and  commended  the  under- 
taking. Heinrich  was  elated  to  the  skies,  and  imme- 
diately proposed  to  play  the  grand  conception,  in  order 
that  the  Chief  Magistrate  of  this  great  nation  might 
have  an  idea  of  its  merits. 

Certainly,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tyler ;  "  I  will  be  greatly 
pleased  to  hear  it.  We  will  go  into  the  parlor,  where 
there  is  a  piano,,  and  I  will  have  Alice  and  the  ladies 
present,  so  that  we  may  have  the  benefit  of  their 
opinion  ;  for,  to  confess  the  truth,  gentlemen,  I  am  but 
a  poor  judge  of  music." 

He  then  rang  the  bell  for  the  waiter,  and  we  were 
shown  into  the  parlor,  and  invited  to  take  some  refresh- 
ments at  the  sideboard.  The  ladies  soon  joined  us, 
and  in  a  short  space  of  time  we  were  all  seated,  ready 
to  hear  Father  Heinrich's  composition  ;  I,  for  the 
second  time,  to  be  gratified.  The  composer  labored 
hard  to  give  full  effect  to  his  weird  production  ;  his 
bald  pate  bobbed  from  side  to  side,  and  shone  like  a 
bubble  on  the  surface  of  a  calm  lake.  At  times  his 
shoulders  would  be  raised  to  the  line  of  his  ears,  and  his 
knees  went  up  to  the  key-board,  while  the  perspiration 
rolled  in  large  drops  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks. 

The  ladies  stared  at  the  maniac  musician,  as  they, 
doubtless,  thought  him,  and  the  President  scratched  his 
head,^  as  if  wondering  whether  wdcked  spirits  were 
not  rioting  in  the  cavern  of  mysterious  sounds  and  re- 
belling against  the  laws  of  acoustics.  The  composer 
labored  on,  occasionally  explaining  some  incomprehen- 
sible passage,  representing,  as  he  said,  the  breaking  up 
of  the  frozen  river  Niagara,  the  thaw  of  the  ice,  and  the 
dash  of  the  mass  over  the  mighty  falls.  Veace  and 
'plenty  were  represented  by  soft  strains  of  pastoral 
music,  while  the  thunder  of  our  naval  war-dogs  and  the 
rattle  of  our  army  musketry  told  of  our  prow'ess  on  sea 
and  land. 

The  inspired  composer  had  got  about  half-way 
through  his  wonderful  production,  w^hen  Mr.  Tyler 
restlessly  arose  from  his  chair,  and  placing  his  hand 
gently  on  Heinrich's  shoulder^  said  : 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


85 


That  may  all  be  verj^  fine,  sir,  but  can*t  yon  play  us 
a  good  old  Virginia  reel  ?  " 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  the  feet  of  the  musician, 
he  could  not  have  been  more  astounded.  He  arose 
from  the  piano,  rolled  up  his  manuscript,  and,  taking 
his  hat  and  cane,  bolted  toward  the  door,  exclaiming: 

**No,  sir;  I  never  plays  dance  music!  " 

I  joined  him  in  the  vestibule,  having  left  Mr.  Tyler 
and  family  enjoying  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  "  maniac 
musician's  "  expense. 

As  we  proceeded  along  Pennsylvania  avenue,  Hein- 
rich  grasped  my  arm  convulsively,  and  exclaimed  : 

Mein  Got  in  himmel !  de  peeples  vot  made  Yohn 
Tyler  Bresident  ought  to  be  hung  !  He  knows  no  more 
apout  music  than  an  oyshter !  " 

He  returned  to  New  York  by  the  next  train,  and  I 
never  heard  any  more  of  the  "  Dawning  of  Music  in 
America." 

Mr.  Heinrich  died  quite  poor  in  E'ew  York.  He  was, 
in  his  earlier  days,  a  very  wealthy  and  influential 
banker  in  the  city  of  Hamburg.  His  fondness  for 
music,  however,  drew  him  away  from  the  less  refined 
but  more  profitable  operations  in  the  money  market. 

A  Presentation. 

Good  humor,  and,  consequently,  good  feeling,  prevailed 
among  the  musical  professionals  in  former  times.  A 
joke  was  given  in  perfect  good-will,  and  received  in  the 
same  spirit. 

Some  years  back  a  musical  convention  was  held  on 
the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake,  during  which  a  grand 
presentation  took  place.  Among  the  delegates  to  this 
momentous  convention  w^ere  Tom  Damer,  a  noble- 
hearted  Irishman  and  fine  vocalist;  James  M.  Deems, 
H.  D.  Hewitt,  Frank  Walters,  J.  E.  Johnston,  the 
artist;  the  veteran  George  Willig,  and  Messrs.  W.  and 
H.  Gaehle,  the  piano  manufacturers.  I,  of,  course,  w^as 
one  of  the  company.  With  material  like  this,  it  is  not 
at  all  strange  that  the  treat  should  have  been  a  rich 


86 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


one,  as  they  had  with  them  one  of  Gaehle's  best  pianos, 
fine  vocal  and  instrumental  talent,  and  plenty  to  eat, 
without  mentioning  the  "  ice-water."  Never  before  did 
the  resrion  of  Curtis  Creek  awaken  to  the  echoes  of 
such  delightful  music.  The  country  people  from  far 
and  near  were  drawn  together  by  the  sweet  strains  that 
floated  upon  the  breeze ;  and  so  agreeably  passed  the 
time,  that  night  closed  in  before  the  company  were 
aware  that  Sol  had  crossed  the  meridian.  Damer  gave 
to  the  ears  of  the  sylvan  goddesses  many  a  touching 
Irish  ballad ;  Deems  made  the  wild  woods  echo  with  the 
silvery  notes  of  his  cornopean,  and  Johnston,  then  in  his 
prime,  charmed  the  water-nymphs  with  his  sweet 
warblings. 

Before  leaving  the  enchanted  spot^  an  incident  trans- 
pired which  will,  doubtless,  live  in  the  recollection  of 
all  who  were  present,  and  be  a  source  of  pleasurable 
reminiscence  whenever  the  subject  is  referred  to.. 

This  great  event  was  the  presentation  of  a  trumpet 
to  our  talented  and  worthy  friend.  Professor  Deems, 
who  had  just  returned  from  Europe,  and  a  pandean  pipe 
to  Professor  Walters,  who  had  never  been  to  Europe. 
I  made  the  presentation  in  an  elaborate  speech,  compli- 
menting the  recipients  in  the  highest  terms.  The 
victims  hardly  heard  my  eloquent  peroration,  for  their 
minds  were  busy  in  laying  the  groundwork  for  a  re- 
sponse. But  no  reply  was  given  to  the  listening  elves 
of  the  forest,  for  the  oratory  of  the  two  gentlemen  was 
completely  dumbfounded  when  I  produced  the  costly 
articles,  a  penny  trumpet,  and  a  wooden  whistle  valued 
at  the  same  sum.  Deems  was  taken  all  aback  ;  but 
Walters  joined  the  others  in  a  good  hearty  laugh,  and 
pocketed  the  insult  as  well  as  the  instrument.  Neither 
of  the  recipients  of  the  honors  of  the  occasion  had  the 
least  inkling  of  the  joke,  but  they  submitted  with  good 
grace. 

Night's  sable  curtain  slowly  gathered  around  us  ;  the 
joyous  party  bade  a  lingering  farewell  to  their  country 
friends,  and  returned  to  the  city,  storing  in  their  memory 
the  pleasant  incidents  of  a  day  so  fraught  with  enjoy- 
ment. 


ORy  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


87 


Fluting. 

Alexander  Cole  was  as  mischievous  a  wag  as  Balti- 
more ever  produced  ;  as  the  common  saying  was  (and 
still  is),  he  was  up  to  all  kinds  of  tricks. 

One  day  a  tall,  raw-boned  countryman  entered  the 
music-store  of  his  father,  while  Alec  was  behind  the 
counter  ready  to  wait  on  the  customers. 

^'  I  want  ter  buy  a  flute  instruction-book,"  said  the 
man. 

Alec  handed  him  one. 

''How  much  may  this  be?"  asked  the  Clod. 

^'  Fifty  cents,  and  it's  cheap  at  that.  It's  full  of 
popular  tunes." 

"  Wall,  I'll  give  yer  fifty  cents  for  the  book,  if  yer'll 
play  me  the  tunes." 

"  I  can't  play,"  replied  Alec ;  but,  right  over  the 
way  there,  you'll  see  a' card  in  the  window,  which  says, 
*  all  kinds  of  fluting  done  here.'  " 

All  right,"  said  the  countryman,  putting  down  the 
money  and  taking  up  the  book.  "  I'll  go  over  thar  and 
see  'em.    I  s'pose  they  won't  charge  me  nothing." 

.*-No,  they  never  charge  strangers,"  was  the  reply. 

The  man  entered  the  millinery  establishment  where 
the  card  was  displayed,  and,  opening  the  book  before  the 
young  lady  who  stood  behind  a  pile  of  needle-work, 
fashionable  bonnets,  and  baby  garments,  pointed  to  a 
tune  and  asked  her  if  she  would  be  so  kind  as  to  play 
it  for  him. 

The  girl,  believing  the  fellow  to  be  drunk,  called  to 
the  principal  of  the  establishment,  and  she  in  turn 
called  in  her  husband,  who  was  about  ejecting  the 
musical  aspirant  through  the  door,  when  he  exclaimed : 

*^  Dod  rot  yer  !  hain't  yer  got  a  sign  up  thar  which 
says:  All  kinds  o'  fluting  done  har?  " 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  and  the  countrjmian  was 
allowed  to  depart. 

Noted  Characters. 

David  Crockett.    The  renowned  David  Crockett,  with 


88 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


whom  I  first  became  acquainted  in  Washington,  and 
who  some  people  of  the  present  day  believe  to  be  a 
fabulous  character,  a  mere  myth,  was  a  great  humorist. 
He  was  remarkably  fond  of  music,  but  his  idea  of  the 
classic  hardly  went  beyond  the  "Arkansaw  Traveller,'' 
or  '^Coony  in  a  hollow."  Lively  airs  or  humorous 
Ethiopian  melodies  pleased  him;  but  he  could  not 
abide  what  he  called  the  scientific  touches."  He 
compared  the  Italian  school  of  singing  to  the  howling 
of  a  wild-cat.  I  remember  him  well ;  we  once  made  a 
trip  to  Baltimore  together,  while  he  was  a  member  of 
Congress.  A  number  of  his  admirers  invited  him  to  a 
dinner  party.  At  the  dinner  he  was  introduced  to 
Colonel  H  ,  a  man  by  no  means  favored  with  per- 
sonal beauty  ;  and  who,  in  order  to  hide  the  effect,  or 
rather  the  defect  of  a  blind  eye,  wore  a  pair  of  green 
spectacles. 

After  the  dinner  we  took  a  stroll  through  the  streets 
of  the  city;  during  which  Crockett's  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  gambols  of  a  monkey,  which,  in  obedi- 
ence to  his  master,  an  itinerant  organ-grinder,  per- 
formed a  number  of  tricks. 

Jocko,"  said  Crockett,  addressing  the  monkey,  "you 
only  want  a  pair  of  green  spectacles  to  make  you  a 
perfect  likeness  of  Col.  H  ." 

The  Colonel  happened  at  that  moment  to  be  at  the 
speaker's  elbow;  and  the  latter,  seeing  that  he  was 
called  upon  to  make  an  apology,  made  the  matter  worse 
by  saying  : 

"  Why,  Colonel,  how  d'ye  do  ?  I  didn't  see  you ;  and 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  to  make  an  apology  to 
you  or  the  monkey 

Henry  W,  Bool  was  a  very  celebrated  auctioneer  at  ' 
the  time  of  which  I  now  write.  He  was  a  Northern 
man,  and  settled  in  Baltimore  in  the  capacity  of  vendor 
of  second-hand  books.  His  magasin  was  a  cellar,  and 
his  assortment  of  mutilated  tomes  elicited  much  atten- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  antiquarian  book-worm.  In  the 
course  of  time  he  commenced  the  book-auction  business, 
and  finally  took  out  a  license  as  a  general  auctioneer ; 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


89 


and,  by  his  great  business  tact,  accumulated  a  very  con- 
siderable property. 

He  was  a  man  of  very  quick  calculation,  knew  bow 
to  humor  the  public,  advertised  largely,  and  made  a 
great  sputter  in  his  advertisements.  At  one  time  he  ad- 
vertised the  Sale  of  a  worthy  widow  lady  in  Old  Town 
and  at  another  he  informed  the  world  that  he  would 
put  under  the  hammer  the  identical  piano  practised 
on  by  Martha  Custis  before  she  was  married  to  George 
Washington."  Many  humorous  scenes  took  place  in 
his  salesroom  on  Baltimore  street,  which  was  the  loung- 
ing  place  of  all  the  wags  in  the  city,  particularly  when 
a  pawnbroker's  sale  was  advertised,  at  which  numerous 
curious  articles  were  exposed  to  a  knock-down,  such 
as  second-hand  female  garments,  family  portraits, 
jewelry,  medals  of  honor,  and  rare  relics  of  antiquity. 
He  once  obtained  a  very  high  bid  for  a  rusty  old  sword, 
which  he  averred  was  the  very  one  Gen.  Cornwallis 
surrendered  to  Gen.  Washington  at  the  battle  of  York- 
town.  On  one  occasion  he  was  trying  to  induce  the 
company  to  bid  freely  on  a  volume  of  my  poems,  the 
last  of  a  large  edition,  of  which  he  had  about  fifty 
copies  to  close  accounts  with  Hickman,  the  publisher. 
1  stood  outside  the  door,  unseen  by  the  knight  of  the 
hammer,  and  listened  to  his  oration. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  flourishing  his  hammer  aloft 
as  if  he  intended  to  split  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  in  twain,, 
"these  poems  are  the  mental  offspring  of  a  bard  of 
Baltimore,  a  poor  devil  of  a  poet.  In  charity  to  his 
starving  family,  give  me  a  bid.  Did  I  hear  ^  fip  f 
Thank  you,  sir.  A  fip  for  the  Baltimore  bard.  Going; 
once — twice — have  you  all  done  ?    Three-e-e — 


seeing  me,  suddenly  changed  his  tune: 

Gentlemen,  there  is  the  author  of  this  beautiful 
casket  of  gems.  It  is  with  pride  that  I  introduce  him 
to  you,  the  Byron  of  America,  the  adopted  poet-laureate 
of  the  Monumental  City  !  Would  you  insult  him  by 
allowing  this  volume  to  go  for  a  fip  ?  Shame  on  you ! 
Think  of  his  feelinks,^' 


salesroom,  and  Bool, 


90 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


This  appeal  was  so  powerful  that  the  bids  ran  up  to 
fifty  cents  a  copy,  with  the  privilege.  It  is  almost  need- 
less to  say  that  1  was  the  bidder  and  took  the  entire 
lot.  I  managed  to  get  rid  of  them  all,  by  distributing 
them,  "with  the  author's  compliments,"  amono-  mv 
numerous  jjairows o  J' 

Poor  Bool !  his  eccentricities  made  him  a  noted  char- 
acter. Jle  had  his  enemies  as  well  as  friends.  During 
the  great  panic,  when  the  banks  refused  specie  pay- 
ments, and  the  country  became  flooded  with  irresponsible 
paper  issues,  whether  from  despondency  or  a  diseased 
mind,  It  IS  not  known,  he  put  an  end  to  his  life  One 
morning  he  went  into  the  loft  over  his  office  and  com- 
mitted suicide  with  a  loaded  pistol,  leaving  a  wife  and 
an  adopted  daughter,  who  subsequently  became  a  great 
traveller  and  a  noted  writer. 


George  Washington  Parke  Custis. 

loS't^*'^*'?  ^^^'^'^  gentleman,  in  the  month  of  October, 
^    '  ^^"g'^*  to  my  mind  many  pleasant  reminiscences 
ot  past  days.    While  residing  in  the  city  of  Washington, 
during  the  administration  of  John  Tyler.  I,  on  several 
occasions,  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Custis's  company 
at  his  beautiful  residence,  "Ariington  House,"  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  majestic  Potomac,  and  overiooking 
the  city  of  Jackson,  the  rival,  in  a  dream,  of  the  national 
metropolis.    I  always  found  Mr.  Custis  ready  to  enter- 
tain company  with  a  hearty,  old-fashioned  Virginia  ho?- 
pitahty.    There  was  nothing  particularly  striking  in 
the  outward  man.    He  was  plain  in  his  attire,  rather 
awkward  in  his  movements,  blunt  in  the  expression  of 
his  opinions,  and  rough,  though  genial,  in  his  manners, 
in  person  he  was  not  above  the  ordinary  height,  stooped 
Slightly,  of  florid  complexion,  and  gray-haired,  for  he 
was  far  advanced  in  life.    He  was  remarkably  fond  of 
painting,  dancing  and  music;  and,  even  in  his  old  age 
considered  himself  an  expert  at  "  cutting  the  pigeon- 
wing.     An  old-stylo  Virginia  reel  seemed  to  act  with 
elastic  power  upon  his  nerves,  and  he  used  often  to  tell, 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


91 


with  self-gratulatlon,  how  he  shamed  the  boys  in  the 
old-time  break-down or  cut-out."  His  performances 
on  the  violin  were  not  exactly  on  a  par  with  those  ot 
Paganini,  Ole  Bull,  or  Artot.  His  favorite  tunes  were 
"  Washington's  Trenton  March  "  and  Bonaparte  Cross- 
ing the  Rhine sometimes  he  ventured  on  ''Hamburg 
Ladies." 

On  one  occasion  I  was  with  a  party  of  ladies  and  ^ 
gentlemen  from  Washington,  a  kind  of  fete  champetre, 
who  had  chosen  Arlington  Spring  for  the  purpose  of 
pleasant  recreation  during  a  sultry  July  day.  Among 
other  luxuries,  the  committee  of  arrangements  had  pro- 
vided an  orchestra,  for  the  purpose  of  stirring  up  the 
drooping  spirits  to  a  merry  dance  on  the  greensward. 
This  orchestra  was  composed  of  a  stalwart  negro,  who 
concentrated  in  himself  the  entire  band— leader,  ballet- 
master,  and  chief  caller-out-of-the-figures.  He  believed 
that  but  few  in  this  broad  land  could  excel  him  as  a 
violinist,  or  rather  a  fiddlist.  A  great  man  was  he  in 
the  crude  judgment  of  colored  society. 

The  sound  of  music  and  merriment  at  the  Spring  was 
su.re  to  bring  Mr.  Custis  from  his  portrait-gallery,  where 
he  generally  passed  the  day.  He  made  his  appearance 
before  the  joyous  company  as  the  dance  was  going  on, 
and  watched  with  a  hawk's  eye  the  bow  of  the  sable 
musician,  as  it  flew  rapidly  back  and  forth  over  the  cat- 
gut. His  intelligent  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles,  and  a 
slight  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  his  legs  might  be  ob- 
served when  the  violin  was  in  "full  cry,"  as  the  fox- 
hunters  say.  At  the  conclusion  of  'the  quadrille  he 
mingled  with  the  company,  recommended  the  clear,  cold 
water  of  the  spring,  warned  every  one  not  to  molest  its 
guardian  (a  huge  bull-frog,  who  sat  like  a  judge  trying 
a  case  of  murder  in  the  first  degree),  and  wound  up  by 
extending  to  all  the  freedom  of  the  grounds.  The  indig- 
nation of  the  sable  musician  was  quite  apparent  to  all 
but  the  old  gentleman  when  the  latter  undertook  to 
show  him  how  to  handle  the  bow.  He  took  the  instru- 
ment, and,  after  tuning  it  to  suit  his  own  ear,  yielded  to 
the  request  of  the  ladies  by  striking  up  Washington's 


^2  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

t^fSC  volunteered  six  times  during 

the  day,  and,  by  way  of  addenda,  on  three  occasion! 

fhTewHh  ^^^^^^^^^'^^        knecdotes  conneSd 

Mr.  Custis  was  seventy-six  years  of  age  when  he  died 
Ihe'^r?       ""^^  '^^t^-'^  the  Fathef-  of  hfs  Country 
and  the  present  generation  was  broken.    He  was'  fond 
of  boasting  of  bis  ancestry,  and  well  might  hele.  His 

of  Mi^W  ^f"""  ^'k"  the  two  childfen 

of  Mis.  Washington  by  her  first  husband,  Daniel  Parke 

foSo^n?:^"'  1."^^'^"  ^^^^"^  ^  great  Idness 
tor  John  Parke,  adopted  his  two  children,  George  W 

Parke  and  Eleanor  Parke,  immediately  after ^^Lel; 

Jhe  subiecro?-    ""tTl  ^""^^^  ^"  -cestor  of 

of  MSni    f  ^  ^taff-officer  of  the  Duke 

01  Ma  Iborough,  and  was  presented  by  Queen  Anne  with 

T  'i''??'^.'  ^'^^  ^o--issioned  Sov 
ba?tTe  S  ^J.nJ' S*"  bravery  at  the 
Datiie  ot  iilenheim,  Germany.    The  Hon  Tobn  Pna+i-^ 

P^-k^s'tf        ^^^'^•^'^  i<Virgi.ia^m^Sc';r^^^ 
Paikes  daughter.    His  tomb  is  at  Arlington  Mrs 
Custis  afterwards  Mrs.  Washington,  was  I  native  of 

thelSs  oT th*^ '  ^"-r  "J       ''^^^^  ^«  ^  '^^"^ 

tJie  Jadies  of  the  period  who  graced  the  levees  of  Go# 

ernorsGooch  andDinwiddie  at  Williamsburg    His  ml" 

i  cicf  ?at'f  i?f -^^'^^  ^'-'l^--*'  -  descerdlt 
01  Cecil  Calvert,  Lord  Baltimore.    When  quite  a  lad 

say  about  nine  years  of  age,  Mr.  Custis  was  pi  esent 
when  his  foster-father  took  the  oath  of  office  as  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States,  as  administered  by  Cha'^reUor 
Livingston  m  New  York  in  1789.  v^uanceiior 

i«  w  b^^^t'{"'  Arlington  residence,  built  by  Mr.  Custis 

sfatl  A  f  vP^"*'"*".^^  *h^'^  gre^t  confederacy  of 
States.    Around  it  rest  the  bones  of  soldiers  who  lost 

nd"broTh;r  o'*^'  "k'^'  f  ™g«'^  «^  father  against  son 
c.nd  bi other  against  brother.    The  merry  laugh  of  the 

echo"1>f"tle  t'-'r^'^-f  ^°"S-er  disturbs  thf  sleepLg 
tw,.  •  ^''^""^^  ^"^^  desolation  reign,  and 

there  ,s  no  voice  to  tell  of  the  past.    Eobert  E.  Lee! 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


93 


who  wedded  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Custis,  is  dead.  The 
inheritance  of  the  companion  of  his  life  was  sacrificed 
because  she  was  the  wife  of  a  rehel^  and  the  ^oxd  of 
Arlington  has  departed. 

Musical  Snobs. 

Though  music  is  considered  all  the  world  over  as  the 
handmaid  of  pleasure  and  the  soother  of  our  cares  and 
sorrows,  yet  the  professional  musician — I  mean  the 
teacher  —  knows  that  it  has  its  miseries.  One  of  them 
is  the  mortification  a  master  is  subjected  to  in  consider- 
ation of  his  being  number  two  in  the  scale  of  society. 
There  are  legions  of  parvenus  —  aristocratic  mushrooms 
—  who  hold  the  education  of  the  teacher  as  naught, 
believing  him  to  be  a  "one-idea"  man,  educated  exclu- 
sively in  the  school  of  demi-semi-quavers.  Now,  with 
me  music  was  made  a  mere  stand-by ;  I  learnt  it  as  an 
accomplishment,  and  it  has  proved  a  means  of  buoying 
me  up  on  the  ocean  of  life.  I  have  always  imagined 
that  I  could  hold  my  own  in  science  and  literature;  but 
with  the  purse-proud  men  of  letters  and  science,  I  have 
always  imagined  I  was  thrown  out  of  the  scale  as  mere 
chaff — a  man  who,  beyond  the  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
knew  nothing.  This  reads  like  egotism,  but  I  feel  that 
I  am  reasoning  for  others  of  my  profession  whom  I 
have  met  with — men  and  general  scholars  who  follow 
the  calling  of  music-teacher  from  inclination,  or  more 
probably  because  it  is  profitable. 

For  instance,  while  sojourning  in  South  Carolina 
many  years  ago,  I  was  invited  to  a  dinner-party  given 
by  a  wealthy  planter.  Cards  of  invitation  had  been 
extended  to  some  of  the  leading  spirits  of  the  South, 
and  '*a  feast  of  reason  and  flow  of  soul"  was  antici- 
pated. I  prepared  myself  for  an  intellectual  treat,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  music,  which  was  almost  a 
drug  to  me,  was,  at  least  for  a  brief  period,  to  be  pUiced 
on  the  shelf 

I  found  the  company  everything  that  I  could  have 
wished  for.    The  ladies  were  bright  and  beautiful,  and 


94 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


the  gentlemen,  among  whom  were  John  C.  Calhoun 
George  McDuffie  Warren  E.  Davis,  and  other  poHtSns 
of  the  South,  full  of  that  genial  hilarity  and  warmth  of 
heart  so  peculiar  to  Southerners.  The  dinner  was 
sumptuous  the  wit  brilliant,  and  the  conversation  edi- 
tying.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  listen,  for  no  one  ever 
dreamed  that  I  had  an  opinion  to  express,  and  therefore 
did  not  ask  it.  ^       7  . 

Mr.  Calhoun  was  an  intellectual  giant.    I  could  not 
help  admiring  the  flash  of  his  large  eyes  when  lighted 
up  by  the  excitement  of  the  moment;  they  seemed  like 
living  coals  glowing  under  the  shadows  of  his  heavy 
arched  eyebrows.    He  was  not  a  handsome  maa  :  his 
high  cheek-bones  and  hollow  cheeks  gave  him  rather 
a  haggard  expression  of  features,  but  his  winning  smile 
threw  a  charm  over  his  iron  countenance,  and  his 
majestic  bearing  marked  the  gentleman.     He  had  a 
peculiar  manner  of  accommodating  his  conversation  to 
the  compass  or  ability  of  the  one  addressed.    He  con- 
versed with  me  familiarly  on  the  science  of  music,  its 
social  influence,  its  power  to  smooth  down  the  rough 
edge  of  our  nature,  and  its  divine  origin.    Still  he  con- 
tessed  he  had  no  ear  for  music,  that  he  could  distinguish 
but  one  tune,  and  that  was  "Yankee  Doodle";  even 
that  he  had  often  tried  to  whistle,  but  as  often  failed  in 
the  eftort,* 

The  host,  perceiving  that  Mr.  Calhoun  was  conversing 

^        ^^^fuP^'''^  ?P  ^""^         me  a  formal  introduction 
JVlr.  Oalhoun,  this  gentleman  is  one  of  your  children  " 
said  he.  ' 

The  great  statesman  looked  a  little  mystified  at  first 
but  his  features  soon  brightened  up,  and  he  exclaimed : 
UH  — ah,  1  understand  you;  the  young  gentleman 

held^'co  JSli,l''n  wfth^?h'^i°.A^^^^^^^^  that  a  memnm 

requested,  played  the  tune  of    T  i^iv  tVqIo  »>         ^^^4?'  ^^^^  spirit,  when 

It  was  evidently  in  violation  of  the  copyrifhUaw.^^^  ^^''^  ^P""i^«» 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  95 

iB  from  the  West  Pomt  Military  ^^^^einy  which  insti- 
tution has  been  styled  my  '  nursery,'  and  the  cadets  my 
children.  A  noble  school,  sir —  a  noble  school.  _ 
'This  exposure  cau^d  me  to  dismount  -7  7;^^^ 
hobby,  and  I  passed  a  truly  agreeable  talf-hour  with 
the  Secretary  of  War  (which  office  he  held  f  e  time), 
who  wormed  out  of  me  all  the  particulars  of  the  re- 
volt "  the  regime  and  police  of  the  Academy,  and  a 
detail  of  the  grievances  the  students  were  subjected  to 
He  appeared  to  me  much  interested  m  the  fate  ot  his 

""Thr'Jiands  of  the  table  discussed,  the  dishes  were 
removed  and  a  variety  of  wines  placed  in  their  stead. 
The  best  part  of  the  feast  was  of  course  in  anticipation 
and  the  ladies,  having  no  predilections  for  wine  and 
cigars,  adjourned  to  the  parlor.  Now,  thought  1,  tor 
an  intellectual  olla  podrida,  a  highly  seasoned  j)0«-poMm, 
a  well-savored  medley.    Vain  hope ! 

I  had  barely  lighted  my  cigar  and  drawn  myselt  up 
vis-a-vis  with  a  bottle  of  sparkling  sherry,  when  a 
servant  informed  me  that  the  ladies  desired  my  com- 
nanv  in  the  parlor ;  they  wanted  some  music.  I'olite- 
ness  dictated  that  I  should  not  say  nay  to  an  order 
,  from  that  quarter,  but  the  mortifying  thought  came 
y  over  me  that  the  hospitality  of  the  host  was  not 
genuine.  I  had  been  invited  merely  for  my  musical 
abilities.  ,    .  ^ 

I  arose  from  my  seat  with  a  very  bad  grace  and 
rather  sulkily  responded  to  the  message  of  the  lady  01 
the  house,  who  led  me  to  the  piano  with  many  smiles 
at  the  same  time  whispering  in  my  ear  that  i  must 
"  do  my  best,"  as  there  were  two  heiresses  in  the  room, 
both  passionately  fond  of  music,  and  both  marriageable, 
though  she  forgot  to  introduce  me  to  them. 

I  flayed  and  sang  for  an  hour,  while  they  conversed 
on  trifling  topics  —  the  fashions  of  the  day,  the  wedding 
of  a  mutual  friend,  the  style  of  the  dresses  there 
exhibited,  with  an  effort  to  solve  the  problem  as  to 
whether  the  bride  and  groom  were  destined  to  be 
happy  together.    No  one  thought  of  listening  to  me. 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

I  was  compelled  to  labor  on,  for  I  had  been  Umred 
with  an  invitation  to  the  fete  only  to  amuse  the  com- 
pany. My  mortification  did  not  end  with  a  solo  or  two 
or  a  ballad,  for  one  of  the  heiresses  proposed  a  quadrille 
which  was  heartily  agreed  to  by  all  but  myself  I 
played,  of  course,  for  I  was  determined  to  do  my  best 
to  prove  myself  a  gentleman,  if  they  lacked  the  requi- 
sites  of  the  lady.  I  soon,  however,  had  my  revenare  on 
the  heiress. 

There  is  something  truly  annoying  to  an  American, 
I  mean  a  democratic  American,  to  sit  for  an  hour  or 
two  listening  to  the  caterwauling  of  a  band  of  jabbering 
foreigners,  who  have  clothed  themselves  with  the  title 
of  prima  donna,  prima  donna  assoluta,  tenore  prima 
prima  basso  profondo,  et  cetera,  while  attempting  to 
give  expression  to  our  unpretending,  yet,  with  us,  pleas- 
ing  ballads.  I  would  ask  if  there  are  not  words  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon  language  that  can  be  associated  so  as  to 
express  what  is,  in  the  supreme  affectation  of  fashion- 
able parlance,  termed  soiree  musicale  "  ?  It  means,  if 
I  am  not  very  much  mistaken,  <*an  evening  m.usical 
party,"  or  social  concert,  either  of  which  terms,  may  be 
used  with  far  more  propriety  than  the  imported  one. 

After  the  fourth  quadrille,  Miss  C  ,  the  heiress, 

presuming  on  her  rosy  and  yellow  beauty,  proposed  a 

soiree  musicale,"  in  which  all  the  company  were  to 
participate.  She  could  sing  in  Italian,  French,  and 
German,  and  there  were  some  gentlemen  in  the  dinino-. 
room  who  would,  no  doubt,  gladly  lend  their  aid. 

Three  foreigners,  a  German,  a  Frenchman,  and  an 
Italian,  were  invited  into  the  parlor,  and  the  '^soiree 
musicale"  commenced.  I  was  particularly  edified  by 
the  abortive  efforts  of  the  German  to  render  some  of 
our  popular  songs  in  the  German  style,  and  equally 
ludicrous  were  the  essays  of  some  of  the  ladies  at  an 
Italian  bravura.  JSTot  one  of  these  latter  understood  a 
word  of  that  which  they  sung.  All  the  distortion  of 
features,  afi^ected  twisting  of  the  body,  and  agonizing 
distension  of  the  lungs,  requisite  to  the  accomplishment 
of  difficult  operatic  music,  were  exhibited  in  the  most 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


97 


disgusting  degree;  while  the  original  language  was 
tortured  into  mere  gibberish. 

Miss  c  ,  in  particular,  who  was  proclaimed  the 

prima  donna  of  the  evening,  entailed  upon  herself  no 
small  degree  of  mortification,  through  ignorance  of  the 
language  in  which  she  attempted  to  sing.  It  seemed 
she  had  obtained  a  manuscript  song  from  a  friend,  an 
officer  in  the  navy,  who  had  spent  some  time  at  Naples. 
This  gentleman  had  heard  it  sung  by  the  bright-eyed 
daughters  of  Italy,  and  became  so  much  enamored  of  it 
that  he  determined  to  obtain  a  copy,  cost  what  it  might. 
He  consequently  employed  a  musician  belonging  to  the 
frigate's  band  to  write  it  down  while  one  of  the  girls 
sang  it.  This  native  melody"  he  broug;ht  to  this 
country;  highly  esteeming  it  as  a  musical  prize,  he  pre- 
sented it  to  the  heiress.  She  learned  the  melody  and 
words,  and  became  so  much  delighted  with  both  that 
she  determined  to  bring  it  out  that  evening. 

She  sang  it,  and,  I  must  confess,  with  more  feeling 
than  I  had  been  led  to  anticipate.  The  entire  audience 
were  charmed,  and  all  begged  a  copy  of  the  newly-im- 
ported musical  gem. 

"  What  a  sweet  morceau !  "  exclaimed  the  hostess. 
*^  How  I  do  love  the  ballads  of  the  south  of  Italy  ! 

^'The  sentiments  expressed  by  the  poetry,  I  have 
been  told,  are  in  excellent  keeping  with  the  air/'  said 
Miss  C  . 

"Pray  do  sing  it  again,"  begged  the  hostess,  glancing 
her  eyes  over  the  treasured  manuscript. 

Here  the  Italian  amateur  stepped  up  to  the  piano, 
and  with  much  politeness,  mingled  with  no  small  share 
of  embarrassment,  addressed  the  cantatrice  in  Italian. 
She  shook  her  head,  and  observed  that  she  did  not 
understa,nd  Italian. 

"  You  spike  him  nevere  ?  "  asked  he,  still  more  con- 
fused. 

<*]Srot  a  word,  sir.  I  don't  know  one  word  from 
another,"  answered  the  lady,  anticipating  a  compliment 
for  the  uncommon  chasteness  of  her  pronunciation. 

"Ah I  I  am  vere  mush  sorree!  Zen  you  do  not  com- 
prehenda  ze  vords  of  ze  song  ?  " 


98 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


"Oh,  no/^  replied  the  belle;  don^t  care  so  mnch 
about  the  words;  the  melody  is  everything.  It  is  so 
rich,  so  original,  so  characteristic/' 

''Ha!  characteristic,  vere.  Suppose  I  translate  zem  - 
for  j^ou,  you  blush  vere  mush." 

"  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  the  lady,  coloring  to  the  eyes. 
"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  sir — " 

"Pardonne,  signorina  ;  I  am  not  mush  goot  Englise 
scholere,  but  I  know  my  own  language.  Ze  song  you 
haf  sung  should  never  pass  ze  lips  of  a  beautiful  and 
virtuous  young  ladee.    It  is  ze  song  of  ze  Lazzaroni  V 

This  declaration  threw  the  whole  .company  into  a 
state  of  confusion,  and  the  mortified  "prima  donna" 
soon  retired,  to  hide  herself  from  the  half-prying  glances 
of  the  gentlemen  and  the  cruel  jeers  of  the  ladies. 

Henry  Clay  and  the  Billygoat. 

I  once  saw  Henry  Clay  in  an  extremely  bad  predica- 
ment, and  so  fixed  as  to  be  compelled  to  seize  both  horns 
of  the  dilemma. 

In  the  year  1848  almost  everybody  in  the  city  of 
Washington  knew  an  old  he-goat  which  inhabited  Nay- 
lor's  livery  stables  on  Pennsylvania  avenue.  This  animal 
was,  in  all  probability,  the  most  independent  citizen  of 
the  metropolis.  He  belonged  to  no  party,  though  he 
frequently  gave  passengers  striking  proofs  of  his  adhe- 
sion to  the  levelling  system ;  for,  whenever  a  person 
stopped  anywhere  in  his  vicinit}^  Billy  was  sure  to 
make  for  him,  horns  and  all.  The  boys  took  great 
delight  in  irritating  this  long-bearded  gentleman,  and 
frequently  so  annoyed  him  that  he  would  make  war  on 
a  lamp-post  or  tree,  much  to  their  amusement. 

One  day  the  luminary  of  the  West  was  passing  along 
the  avenue,  and  seeing  the  boys  intent  on  worrying 
Billy  into  a  fever,  stopped,  and  with  his  characteristic 
humanity,  expostulated  with  them  on  their  cruelty. 
The  urchins  listened  wuth  silent  awe  to  the  eloquent 
appeal  of  the  great  statesman  ;  but  it  was  all  Cherokee 
to  Billy,  who,  the  ungrateful  scamp !  arose  majestically 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


99 


on  his  hinder  legs  and  made  a  desperate  plunge  at  his 
friend  and  advocate.  Mr.  Clay,  although  he  had  not 
"  slain  a  Mexican/'  proved  himself  too  much  for  his 
horned  assailant.  He  seized  hold  of  both  horns,  and 
then  "  was  the  tug  of  war,"  for  Greek  had  met  Greek. 
The  struggle  was  long  and  doubtful. 

"  Ha  !  "  exclaimed  the  statesman,  "  I  have  ^ot  you 
fast,  you  rascal  I  I'll  teach  you  better  manners.  But, 
boys,"  continued  he,  addressing  the  laughing  gamins^ 
*^  what  am  I  to  do  now  ?" 

"  Trip  up  his  heels,  Mr.  Clay,"  shouted  they. 
Mr.  Clay  did  as  he  was  told,  and,  after  many  severe 
efforts,  brought  Billy  down  on  his  side.  Having  accom- 
plished this  herculean  feat,  he  looked  at  the  boys  im- 
ploringly, seeming  to  say,  "  I  never  was  in  such  a  fix 
before.    Help  me  out." 

The  combatants  were  nearly  exhausted ;  goaty  had 
the  advantage,  for  he  was  gaining  breath  all  the  while 
the  statesman  was  losing  it. 

Boys,"  exclaimed  he,  pufiing  and  blowing,  this  is 
rather  an  awkward  business.    What  shall  I  do  now  ?  " 

Why,  don't  you  know  ?  "  asked  a  little  fellow,  mak- 
ing preparations  to  run  as  he  spoke.  All  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  let  go  and  run  like  blazes  !  " 

Mr.  Clay  followed  the  advice,  and  travelled  at  high 
speed  up  the  avenue,  with  Billy  after  him. 

When  Mr.  Clay  was  in  the  zenith  of  his  glory  he 
visited  Baltimore,  and  was,  of  course,  made  the  cynosure 
for  the  curious  as  well  as  the  political  admirers  of  so 
brilliant  a  star.  I  was  among  the  last  mentioned  ;  so 
great  was  my  admiration  that  on  this  occasion  I  was  a 
constant  attendant  on  him.  I  was  not  a  sycophantic 
seeker  after  office,  for  I  always  had  an  utter  contempt 
for  one  of  that  class.  A  sincere  man  never  contracts  a 
spinal  disorder  from  too  much  bowing.  Politeness  is 
of  a  variety  of  characters  ;  some  are  polite  because  they 
wish  to  obtain  favors,  some  by  force  of  habit,  and  some 
because  they  are  told  to  be  so.  Now,  the  latter  class 
are  the  mere  asses  of  society  ;  politeness  becomes  them 
about  as  much  as  fashionable  garments  do  a  baboon.  I 


100 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


have  frequently  laughed  to  see  some  of  the  'pinks  attempt 
to  ape  the  agreeable,  smiling  and  bowing  to  men  in 
power. 

Mr.  Clay  was  at  Barnum's  hotel.  Several  gentlemen 
of  easy  and  graceful  bearing  stood  around  the  city's 
guest,  when  a  nondescript,  dressed  in  the  height  of 
fashion,  stepped  up  and  was  introduced. 

"How  d'yer  dew,  swa  ?  "  asked  he,  twisting  himself 
into  the  shape  of  the  letter  S,  at  the  same  time  driving 
one  hand  into  his  pantaloons-pocket,  while  he  awk- 
wardly presented  the  other.  "  It  does  me  proud  to  see 
you,  swa.    Huv  you  been  well,  swa  ?  " 

^  Here  the  statesman  replied  as  close  to  the  point  as 
circumstances  would  permit,  adding  something  about 
the  state  of  the  weather. 

"  Them's  my  wopinions/'  continued  the  ape.  "  I've 
seed  persons  who've  experienced  sewere  colds  from  the 
deleterious  effects  of  sich  a  kwoind  of  atmosphere,  swa." 

You  seem  to  have  a  cold  yourself,  sir,"  replied  Mr 
Clay. 

"  Why,  you  see,  swa,  a  sloit  cold,  prowduced  from  werry 
foolishly  looking  out  of  the  window  at  a  female  wontan 
washing  some  werry  damp  linen.  Changing  the  sub- 
ject, swa  ;  I  was  particularly  desirous  of  obtaining  your 
influence,  swa,  in  Washington,  for  I  am  an  applicant  for 
a  ofSce  in  one  of  the  departments.  I  could  not  stoop  to 
be  a  low  understrappwa.  The  Government  must  have 
gentlemen,  swa,  gentlemen  in  offices  of  trust.  You 
should  have  the  first  in  the  gwift  o'  the  people,  swa  ; 
and  I  the  second.    Them's  my  sentiments." 

"  I  am  happy  to  have  your  name  on  the  list  of  my 
friends,"  remarked  Mr.  Clay,  politely.  Government 
offices  are  scarce  now;  and,  if  any  are  to  be  filled,  the 
party  at  present  in  power  will  soon  supply  the  vacancy." 

"  No  doubt,  swa  ;  but  it's  my  wopinion  that  you  will 
have  the  broom  in  your  grip  some  o'  these  days ;  and  a 
statesman  loik  jovl  knows  how  to  use  it.  Sweep  all 
your  enemies  out,  swa;  and,  of  course,  sweep  all  your 
friends  in.    Them's  my  sentiments,  swa." 

Here  the  company  were  invited  to  partake  of  some 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


101 


wine,  which  was  handed  around  by  a  sable  waiter. 
When  this  waiter  came  to  the  office-seeking  exquisite  of 
the  rough  order,  he  was  astounded  by  a  polite,  but 
rather  awkward  bow,  a  flourish  of  his  gloved  hand,  and 
the  following  burst  of  eloquence  : 

"  I  say,  fellar,  what  d'yer  call  this,  eh  ?  Wulgar 

sherry  ?   Gwive  me  a  gin  cocktail,  and  be  d  d  to 

yer !  I  know  what  manners  and  gentility  is.  "We 
nevwa  dwink  woine  afore  dinnwa.  Get  along,  colored 
indiwidual,  and  fetch  me  a  hee's  wing, — I  say,  Mr.  Clay, 
it's  confounded  strange  them  fellers  can't  be  teached 
etticwet.  Nothink  shocks  my  nerves  worse  than  the 
widea  of  dwinking  wine  afore  dinnwa.  Ain't  it  so, 
swa  ?  " 

The  dignity  of  the  great  Western  statesman  gave 
way  at  this  appeal,  and  he  had  to  turn  his  head  aside  to 
hide  the  smile  the  apish  politeness  of  the  polished  cobble- 
stone had  excited. 

As  I  have  brought  the  name  of  Henry  Clay  into 
these  papers,  I  might  as  well  here  relate  an  anecdote, 
tending  to  show  the  quick  forethought  of  the  eloquent 
statesman. 

During  my  residence  in  Washington  I  became  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  many  of  the  celebrated  politi- 
cians of  the  period ;  among  them  Henry  Clay  and 
Daniel  Webster. 

Mr.  Clay  was  a  man  to  be  loved  by  all  who  were 
thrown  into  his  company.  He  was  polished  in  his 
manners,  free  from  ostentation^  ready  at  a  repartee,  and 
full  of  anecdote.  He  was,  in  all  probability,  the  finest 
whist-player  in  the  country.  Like  the  popular  states- 
man of  the  South,  John  C.  Calhoun,  he  could  always 
accommodate  himself  to  circumstances,  and  mould  his 
conversation  to  suit  the  person  with  whom  he  was  con- 
versing, be  the  subject  either  the  arts,  sciences,  agricul- 
ture, commerce,  or  politics.  He  was  at  home  on  every 
theme. 

I  had  composed  a  song  in  praise  of  him  during  the 
Presidential  campaign,  when  political  glee-clubs  were 
all  the  rage.    It  was  entitled  "  The  Kentucky  Gentle- 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


man,"  and  published  in  New  York,  with  a  lithographic 
likeness  of  him  and  an  autograph  letter.  Being  de- 
sirous that  he  should  hear  it  well  sung,  I  took  Duffield 
(then  a  popular  vocalist),  with  a  printed  copy  of  the 
song,  and  we  both  visited  Clay's  residence.  He  re- 
ceived us  cordially,  and  introduced  us  into  the  parlor, 
which  was  filled  with  foreign  dignitaries,  Senators, 
Eepresentatives,  and  office-seekers.  After  a  while  I 
presented  my  song  to  Mr.  Clay,  and  told  him  that  I  had 
brought  with  me  a  celebrated  vocalist,  in  order  that  he 
might  become  acquainted  with  its  merits.  As  I  was 
lifting  the  lid  of  the  pianoforte  to  put  my  desiga  in  ex- 
ecution, he  took  me  by  the  arm  and  remarked : 

"  Would  it  not  be  better,  think  you,  to  select  some 
other  opportunity  ?  I  could  hardly  bear  to  hear  my 
praises  sung  in  the  presence  of  foreign  diplomats  and 
members  of  the  Democratic  party." 

I  at  once  saw  the  justness  of  his  objections.-  and  post- 
poned the  performance. 

I  once  heard  an  argument  (not  reported  in  the  Con- 
gressional proceedings)  between  Mr.  Clay  and  Daniel 
Webster,  "the  god-like  Daniel "  as  he  was  called.  The 
I'  great  expounder,"  though  proud,  stern  and  invincible 
in  the  Senate,  was  sociable  in  the  convivial  circle. 
Some  of  his  stories  were  excellent,  and  told  with  an  ease 
and  grace  that  were  sure  to  create  admiration,  if  not 
merriment. 

He  entered  into  an  argument  with  Mr.  Clay  on  the 
merits  of  two  preachers  of  diflPerent  persuasions.  Clay 
contended  that  the  Eev.  Mr.  Bascom,  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  was  the  finest  ofi*-hand  orator  of  the  day, 
eloquent  and  persuasive;  and  wound  up  his  eulogium 
by  saying  that  he  could  preach  a  sinner  into  heaven  as 
soon  as  any  other  living  man  of  God. 

Mr.  Webster,  in  opposition,  brought  up  Mr.  Flanders, 
of  the  Universalist  Church,  and  remarked  that,  if  Mr. 
Bascom  could  preach  sinners  into  heaven,  Flanders  had 
an  astounding  knack  of  preaching  them  out  of  hell. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


103 


John  Tyler, 

tlie  chance  President  of  the  United  States,  whom  the 
death  of  G-eneral  Harrison  placed  in  the  chair,  was  a 
perfect  Virginia  gentleman  ;  urbane  in  bearing,  sociable, 
and  highly  polished  in  manners.    Though  remarkably 
fond  of  poetry  and  music,  he   was  a  good  judge 
of  neither.     I   have  set   some   of  his   effusions  to 
music ;  one,  a  serenade  which  was  sung  under  ^  the 
window  of  Miss  Grardener  previous  to  their  marriage. 
It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night ;  every  one  knows 
that  moonlight  adds  greatly  to  the  effect  of  a  serenade. 
Mr.  Tyler  stood  a  short  distance  off  in  the  company 
with  F.  W.  Thomas,  the  White  House  poet-laureate, 
while  the  serenaders  executed  the  President's  appeal  to 
the  sleeping  beauty,  who  was  wide  awake  all  the  while. 
When  the  song  of  feeling,  with  an  appropriate  refrain, 
was  finished,  Mr.  Tyler  stood  looking  steadfastly  up  to 
the  window  of  the  fair  lady,  when,  to  his  great  satis- 
faction,  down  came  a  bouquet,  which  he  quickly  seized 
and  pressed  to  his  lips,  but  as  quickly  dashed  to  the 
ground.    Thomas  took  it  up  and  hid  it  under  his  cloak. 
The  next  morning  he  showed  it  to  me,  and  we  had  a 
hearty  laugh  at  the  President's  expense.    The  bouquet 
was  composed  of  turnip-tops,  a  magnificent  sunflower, 
several  radishes  and   cabbage-leaves,  tied   around  a 
turkey-gizzard.    Years  after,  when  I  visited  Mr.  Tyler 
at  his  beautiful  estate  "  Sherwood,"  on  the  James  river, 
he  spoke  of  this  little  episode  and  laughed  heartily 
over  it,  adding  that  he  still  retained  a  copy  of  the 
serenade  with  the  music,  and  treasured  it  very  highly. 


Judge  Bibb* 

If  any  man  understood  the  philosophy  of  angling,  it 
was  Judge  Bibb.  He  was  in  all  probability  the  most 
inveterate  angler  in  the  country.  His  fishing  apparatus 
was  perfect  in  all  its  parts,  and  of  the  most  costly  kind. 

I  remember  when  the  Judge  was  in  the  Cabinet  of 
President  Tyler,  having  occasion  to  cross  the  Long 


104  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

Bridge  from  the  city  of  Washington  to  the  opposite  shore 
ol  the  Potomac  (the  site  of  the  city  of  Jackson— in  per- 
spective), I  saw  him  seated  on  one  of  the  piers,  with  his 
splendid  rod  properly  balanced,  patiently  awaiting  a 
bite  ihis  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
the  bright  rays  of  a  July  sun  gave  promise  of  a  warm 
day. 

"Well,  Judge,"  I  inquired,  "what  luck  to-day?" 

"Tolerable,'^  replied  he,  scarcely  turning  his  eyes 
from  the  float;  «I  had  a  nibble  about  an  hour  a'go. 
Ihere  are  fish  about,  sir,  and  I  expect  to  hook  one 
shortly." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  fishing  ?  " 
"  Since  six  o'clock,"  answered  he. 
"Good  morning,  Judge.    I  hope  you  will  have  that 
Bibbler  by  the  gills  before  sundown." 
^  I  proceeded  on  my  journey  towards  Alexandria,  and 
m  about  three  hours  returned  to  the  bridge.  The 
Judge  was  seated  in  the  same  spot,  and  nearly  in  the 
same  attitude.  ^ 
"  Well,  what  luck  now,  Judge  ?  "  asked  I 
Pretty  much  the  same,  sir.    That  fish  bit  again, 
but  I  could  not  hook  him.    I  have  just  put  on  two  new 
hooks  and  am  almost  tempted  to  try  the  sockdoliger'' 
"  Ihis  IS  but  sorry  sport,"  I  remarked.    *'!  wonder 
you  do  not  give  it  up." 

*;By  no  means,  sir,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "I  have 
enjoyed  myself  exceedingly.  I  have  been  watching  that 
spider  weaving  his  web  from  my  rod  to  my  line 
bpiders  are  industrious  creatures,  sir.  With  a  slight 
motion  of  my  hand  I  might  destroy  his  dainty  work 
but  I  won't  do  it.  He  teaches  me  a  lesson.  I  am  idling 
my  time  away,  while  he  is  working.  He  w^eaves  his 
snare  to  catch  the  unwary  fly.  He  works  for  his  daily 
bread,  sir;  and  he  works  hard,  too.  Eut  what  a  fool 
he  IS  t^o  stretch  his  flimsy  net  between  my  line  and 
rod !  In  a  moment  I  could  destroy  him  and  all  his 
hopes,-  but  I  won't  do  it,  for  I  am  doing  just  what  he 
18.  1  have  set  my  trap,  and  am  waiting  to  ensnare  the 
poor  little  fish  that  plays  around  the  hook,  driven  by 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


105 


hunger.  We  all  prey  upon  one  another,  sir,  from  the 
strongest  down  to  the  weakest.  May  be  you'll  think 
I  am  "cheating  the  Government,  by  wasting  time  which 
bek^ngs  to  the  duties  of  my  office,  such  thing,  sir. 
I  have  done  more  business  this  morning  for  the  country 
than  I  could  possibly  have  accomplished  had  I  remained 
at  the  Department.  I  have  settled  claims;  I  have 
formed  treaties ;  I  have  given  answers  to  knotty  ques- 
tions, and  concocted  my  report  on  the  state  of  the  Navy 
Department.  That  spider  and  myself  have  worked 
together  — he  physically,  I  mentally— and  I  have  a 
fellow-feeling  for  him.  No  one  has  disturbed  my  medi- 
tations but  yourself  Had  I  been  at  my  office,  I  might 
have  been  'importuned  by  hundreds.  It  is  not  the 
angling  that  attracts  me  to  this  spot;  it  is  the  quiet  of 
the  beautiful  river,  the  freedom  of  thought,  and  a  few 
hours  of  alienation  from  the  cares  and  turmoil  of  the 
world.    This  I  call  the  philosophy  of  angling." 

I  left  the  worthy  functionary  enjoying  himself  in  his 
own  solitary  way,  and  had  proceeded  but  a  few  rods  on 
the  bridge  when  I  heard  a  shout  of  exultation,  and 
looking  back,  saw  him  spinning  out  his  reel  and  playing 
with  a  fish  in  true  sportsmanlike  style.  I  turned  my 
horse's  head  and  witnessed  the  scene  ©f  the  angler's 
triumph.  A  fine  bass  had  struck  his  hook,  and  it  was 
refreshing  to  witness  the  skill  and  adroitness  with 
which  the  old  gentleman  flayed  out  and  coaxed  in.  At 
one  moment  the  noble  fish  was  at  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  then  summoning  all  his  strength,  he  plunged 
to  the  bed  of  the  stream,  the  rapid  buzz  of  the  reel 
giving  evidence  of  his  power.  I  watched  the  Judge's 
features  during  the  exciting  scene.  They  were  calm, 
yet  his  lips  curled  with  triumphant  pride,  and  he  spoke 
not  a  word  until  the  victim  of  his  skill  and  patience 
was  brought  safely  in  and  secured.  Then  drawing 
himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  looking  as  if  the 
world  had  been  conquered,  he  said: 

"There,  sir,  what  do  you  think  of  that?    Did  I  sit 
here  all  the  morning  for  nothing?    I'll  go  to  the  De- 
partment now,  for  that  is  glory  enough  for  one  day.'' 
5* 


106  SHADOWS  ON-  THE  WALL; 

^u* uT^^*       become  of  the  spider  ?  "  I  asked. 

Uh  blast  the  spider!  You  l^now  the  ^reat  will  prey 
upon  the  small  The  little  weaver  wts  annihilated 
when  the  noble  fish  assailed  my  hook.  It's  so  all  the 
world  over,  sir." 

The  Drama. 

Baltimore  never  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being  a 
good  place  for  theatrical  managers.   As  far  back  as  ray 
memory  goes,  managers  avoided  establishing  theni- 
selves  here.    Strolling  companies  would  only  venture 
to  rent  the  theatre  for  a  short  season,  the  length  of 
which  depended  altogether  on  the  success  they  met 
with.    Wood  and  Warren  had  their  companies.  Their 
headquarters  were  in  Philadelphia,  and  at  given  periods 
they  would  produce  fine  old  English  comedies  and 
tragedies,  with  humorous  farces,  in  Baltimore,  and 
sometimes  in  Annapolis  and  Washington.    The  Holli- 
day  Street  Theatre,  then  the  only  respectable  dramatic 
temple  m  the  city,  was  usually  closed  two-thirds  of  the 
year.    I  here  were  but  three  performances  a  week- 
admission  to  the  boxes  one  dollar.    This  building  be- 
longed to  a  joint  stock  company,  and  did  not  pay  a 
heavy  dividend-.    Many  desperate  efforts  were  m^de  to 
establish  a  regular  dramatic  company,  one  that  could 
be  called  our  own  ;  but  every  manager  who  undertook 
^failed  and  became  bankrupt.    De  Camp,  Thomas 
Ward,  Eobotham,  Maywood,  Walton  and  Lamb,  with 
others,  tried  the  experiment,  but  met  with  no  encour- 
agement. 

I  remember  John  Lamb's  excuse  for  continuing  the 
season  « to  a  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes  " 

A  friend  remarked  to  him  one  day : 

"How  is  it,  Mr.  Lamb,  that  you  manage  to  run  the 
theatre  night  after  night  when  your  receipts  cannot 
reach  over  twenty  dollars  ?  " 

"My  dear  sir,"  replied  Lamb,  "I  must  support  my 
^^a  7;.  ,  How  could  I  go  to  market  in  the  morning,  if 
i  didn't  keep  the  theatre  open  ?  " 

Thomas  Ward  used  to  pay  off  his  creditors  with  his 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  107 

I.  O.  U.,  a  kind  of  obligation  that  no  banking  institu- 
tion would  discount. 

De  Camp  had  his  wardrobe  seized  by  the  Sheritt  a 
half-dozen  times,  and  Tom  Walton  was  always  up  before 
a  magistrate  on  suspicion  of  being  in  debt.* 

Walton  and  Ward  managed  the  Adelphi  Theatre, 
(in  former  times  called  the  Mud  Theatre  ")  when  it 
was  almost  entirely  destroyed  by  a  mob.  This  dingy 
little  concern,  located  in  a  low  part  of  the  city,  was 
built  and  owned  by  John  Findlay,  a  rather  eccentric 
chairmaker,  but  a  well-meaning  man.  Some  of  the 
b€st  actors  of  the  day  trod  its  boards,  and  at  one  time 
the  elder  Booth  had  it  under  control. 

Walton  made  an  engagement  with  Mr.  Anderson,  a 
blustering  English  actor,  who  had  made  himself  very 
unpopular  with  the  American  people  by  speaking  his 
sentiments  too  freely  while  on  board  a  steamboat. 
This  Anderson  was  announced  with  flaming  letters  on 
the  posters;  and,  though  Walton  was  warned,  yet  he 
thought  himself  too  popular  with  the  crowd  to  antici- 
pate a  riot.  However,  the  result  proved  that  he  over- 
estimated his  popularity. 

The  night  of  Anderson's  first  appearance  arrived  ;  the 
building  was  lighted  and  the  doors  thrown  open.  Some 
few  curious  people  purchased  tickets  and  took  their 
seats,  but  by  far  the  largest  audience  was  on  the  out- 
side, and  the  mass  was  composed  of  elements  that  only 
needed  a  wink  or  a  snap  of  the  finger  and  thumb  to 
send  them  to  their  work  of  mischief. 

The  orchestra  had  struck  the  first  notes  of  the  over- 
ture, when  a  stone  came  through  one  of  the  windows 
with  a  crash,  and  struck  the  contra-basso  of  our  friend, 
Eobert  Bunyie.  The  Scotchman  looked  daggers  ;  but, 
on  cool  reflection,  he  shouldered  his  huge  fiddle  and 

•An  old  American,  dated  March  14th,  1810,  has  the  following  announcement : 
CIRCCJS. 
The  Pantomime  called, 
THE  TWO  RIVALS, 
Or  the  Death  of  Captain  Must'ipha,  hy  Indians. 
In  act  l8t  a  shipwreck  will  appear  ia  view  of  the  Indians. 

Between  the  Ist  and  2d  acttt,  a  yoani;  lady  will  make  her  flrst  appearance  on  tU14 
stage,  and  dance  a  hornpipe,  composed  of  more  than  twenty  differe.nt  steps. 

8^  The  whole  to  conclade  with  handsome  fireworks,  compjsed  of  three  pieces 
by  Mr.  Codet. 


108 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


made  a  very  dignified  retreat  The  rest  of  the  orchestra 
tollowed  his  example,  and  the  audience  began  to  look 
uneasy.  After  the  first  shot  the  bombardment  com- 
menced  m  downright  earnest,  and  there  was  a  iinding: 
of  panes  in  every  direction. 

^  The  curtain  arose  and  Walton  made  his  appearance 
just  as  the  outside  pressure  became  too  much  for  the 
doorkeeper,  and  the  roughs  entered  pell-mell.  Fear 
or  excitement  made  him  forget  even  the  usual  set 
speech  for  which  he  was  so  celebrated.  He  stammered 
out  something  about  the  chivalric  city  of  Baltimore 
his  great  desire  to  please  his  numerous  friends,  and 
linally  wound  up  by  stating  that  Anderson  was  not  in 
the  house,  and  hoped  they  would  not  destroy  the  prop- 
erty of  a  worthy  and  hard-working  man.  But,  did  any 
one  ever  know  a  mob  to  listen  to  reason  or  an  appeal  to 
their  better  feelings  ?  They  only  laughed,  mounted  to 
the  stage  and  began  their  vandalism  by  cutting  the 
scenery  with  their  knives,  ransacking  the  trunks  and 
dressing-cases  of  the  ladies  of  the  company  for  iewelry 
and  beating  solos  on  the  thunder-drum.;  "  - 

^i,'"^^^^^^'^^^^  became  highly  agitated;  he  saw,  or 
thought  he  saw,  some  unwelcome  dead-Mads  applyino- 
an  Ignited  match  to  the  scenery ;  so  he  said  Vood- 
natu redly  :  '  ° 

"Fellow-citizens,  I  assure  you,  on  my  honor,  that  the 
lellow  Anderson  is  not  in  the  house.  The  ladies  of  the 
company  have  all  gone  to  their  homes,  the  orchestra 
has  Ignobly  iied,  and  I  am  left  alone.  Take  your  seats 
and  1  will  sing  you  '  A  Wet  Sheet  and  a  Flowing  Sea  ' 
and  dance  'Fisher^s  Hornpipe,'  if  any  one  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  whistle  for  me." 

The  stage  was  cleared,  and  the  manager  commenced 
his  song,  which  was  encored  vociferously.  A  stout 
t,.  ^^^^..^J'^"  ^^^^  stand  on  the  stage  and  commenced 
his  hllibeloo,  while  Walton  went  through  a  sailor's 
hornpipe  with  more  than  his  usual  energy.  The 
stratagem  succeeded,  the  roughs  got  into  a  good  humor 
gave  three  cheers  for  Tom  Walton,  and  vacated  the 
budding. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


109 


At  the  commencement  of  the  gathering  around  the 
theatre,  Walton,  supposing  that  I  was  vastly  popular 
with  the  masses,  persuaded  me  to  go  to  the  vestibule 
and  harangue  the  multitude.  I  foolishly  yielded  to  his 
urgent  solicitation,  and  presented  myself  before  the 
excited  people.  Taking  my  hat  otf,  I  commenced  in 
the  most  approved  style  : 

"Fellow-citizens  and  friends," — heremy  eloquence  was 
brought  to  a  stand,  for  a  voice  from  the  crowd  arose  on 
the  night  air,  saying,  '*  Shut  up,  you  blasted  fool !  " 
w^hile  a  tolerably  large  brickbat  came  in  close  prox- 
imity with  my  head.  I  attempted  to  reason  with  the 
man*^  that  threw  that  last  brick,"  but  the  hailstorm 
thickened,  and  at  length  came  with  such  force  that  1 
had  to  beat  an  inglorious  retreat,  and  seek  shelter  in 
the  lobby,  quite  discomfitted^  but  much  consoled  by  the 
expression  of  Walton  himself,  who  congratulated  me  on 
my  pluck,  at  the  same  time  remarking  that  I  ought  to 
be  thankful  that  the  result  was  not  worse.* 

Experience  as  a  Manager, 

I  need  scarcely  apologize  to  my  readers  for  the  allu- 
sions to  self  which  may  prevail  in  the  chapters  that 
follow.  These  reminiscences  constitute  a  kind  of  auto- 
biography ;  and,  in  order  to  sketch  my  characters 
faithfully,  I  am  compelled  to  bring  myself  in  as  the 
second  person  ;  thus  opening  myself  to  the  charge  of 
egotism,  which  I  have  endeavored,  as  much  as  possible, 
to  avoid.  If  my  friends  will  have  a  little  patience,  I 
will  soon  bring  them  back  to  Baltimore  in  olden  times. 

While  on  theatrical  affairs,  I  feel  disposed  to  emulate 

*  The  Mud  Theatre  "  (so  called  from  its  being  located  in  a  low,  muddy  section 
of  the  city  called  the  "  Meadows")  was  destroyed  by  tire  on  the  22d  of  June,  1876. 
John  Findlay,  who  was  somewhat  of  a  visionary  man,  thought  he  saw  millions  in 
his  enterprise;  so,  with  his  brothers.  Hugh  and  William,  lie  put  up  the  building, 
which  seated  about  800  people.  Among  the  celebrities  who  at  various  times  occu- 
pied the  stage,  were  the  elder  Booth,  Ilacketi,  Macreadv.  Farmer.  J.  K.  Scott,  A.  A. 
Adams,  James  K.  Murdoch,  Eaton  and  Edmund  Kean.  Madame  Celeste  also  figured 
on  its  stau;e,  and  Hervio  Nino,  the  great  man  monfeey,  proved  a  great  card.  Findlay 
subsequently  turned  the  building  Into  a  bath-house  and  reading-room,  called  the 
Colonnade.  It  then  became  a  bazaar;  and,  finally,  was  metamorrhosed  Into  a 
livery  stable  and  horse-mart.  This  was  the  last  of  it.  At  one  time  Lennox  and 
Singer,  both  actors,  became  lessees.  The  latter  made  a  fortune  in  the  sewing- 
machine  business.  George  Jordan,  William  Jordan,  S.  K.  Chester,  and  John 
Albaugh,  prepared  for  the  dramatic  profession  on  the  boards  of  the  "  Adelphi." 


110 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


Horace  Greeley,  and  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  what  I 
know  about  managing. 

In  the  early  days"  of  my  career  I  entered  into  a 
theatrical  speculation  at  the  South,  with  gorgeously 
bright  visions  of  a  splendid  harvest.  It  is  true  I  had 
but  little  turn  that  way,  except  as  a  dramatist  anxious 
to  become  a  second  Shakspeare. 

The  coT^s  dramatique  assembled  at  Augusta,  Ga.  It 
was  composed  mostly  of  tiros— the  Hamlets,  Richards, 
Ollapods,  Juliets,  &c.,  &c.,  of  amateur  actors  of  Phila- 
delphia and  'Nqw  York. 

There  is  no  actor  more  jealous  of  his  reputation  than 
a  young  beginner.  His  foot  is  on  the  lowest  round  of 
the  ladder  of  preferment,  and  his  eyes  on  the  upper. 
Tell  him  of  his  faults  and  he  will  say  that  you  are 
endeavoring  to  crush  the  germ  of  genius  within  him, 
that  you  are  throwing  barriers  in  his  way;  and,  in 
short,  that  you  are  hypercritical  and  his  enemy. 

Two  aspirants  to  the  upper  walks  of  tragedy  unfor- 
tunately were  brought  into  the  same  arena,  and  neither 
of  them  would  play  second  to  the  other,  or  even  to  the 
most  accomplished  tragedian  of  the  day.  In  the 
absence  of  greater  lustres,  these  promising  youths 
would  quarrel  with  each  other  as  to  who  should  enact 
the  leading  heroes.  If  the  stage-manager  happened  to 
cast  Eichard  for  one,  the  other  would  see  the  manage- 
nient  to  Tophet  ere  he  would  touch  Richmond,  snap- 
ping  his  finger  and  thumb  at  fines  and  penalties,  and 
making  the  partiality  a  reasonable  excuse  for  getting  on 
a  protracted  jollification. 

On  one  occasion  Mr.  Snodkins,  as  I  shall  call  him, 
thought  to  throw  Booth  into  the  shade  by  casting  him- 
self for  the  part  of  Sir  Edward  Mortimer  in  the  Iron 
Chest,''  on  the  occasion  of  his  benefit.  The  character, 
according  to  the  bills,  was  rendered  at  the  particular 
request  of  numerous  friends,"  and  had  been  personated 
by  him  with  universal  approbation,  before  crowded 
audiences  of  the  elite  and  fashion  of  the  Northern 
cities,  including  the  Tivoli  Gardens  of  Philadelphia. 
The  house  was  well  filled  with  the  hard-fisted  friends 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


Ill 


and  backers  of  the  aspiring  youth,  and  the  applause 
was  boisterous  whenever  he  appeared  on  the  stage. 
Every  flourish  of  his  arm,  classic  attitude,  or  explosive 
peroration,  *^  drew  down  the  house,"  with  expressions 
of  "  Hi !  go  it,  old  boss  !  "  These  proofs  of  admiration 
on  the  part  of  the  enlightened  public  spurred  the  young 
actor  on.  He  put  the  steam  on  to  the  highest  notch, 
without  looking  to  the  safety-valve. 

Sniggles,  his  rival,  had  declined  performing  that 
night,  as  he  would  play  second  fiddle  to  no  one,  not 
even  Cooper,  and  had  taken  a  seat  among  the  audience, 
for  the  purpose  of  enlightening  the  benighted  of  the 

dress  circle  "  by  exposing  the  numerous  imperfections 
of  the  personation.  His  "  Bah  !  fudge  !  nonsense,"  &c., 
fell  grating  frequently  on  the  ear  of  the  sweating  actor, 
and  annoyed  him  exceedingly,  causing  him  to  cast 
many  looks  of  indignation  at  the  merciless  criticisms  of 
his  enemy.  This  display  of  anger  only  impelled  Sniggles 
to  open  and  loud  remarks ;  and,  near  the  conclusion 
of  the  play,  he  bellowed  out : 

*'Look  here,  Snodkins,  you  know  you  have  dropped 
an  entire  speech  in  that  scene." 

Snodkins  walked  with  tragic  dignity  down  to  the 
foot-lights.  The  audience  maintained  a  breathless 
silence,  and  the  leader  of  the  orchestra,  who  was  put- 
ting a  new  string  on  his  violin,  suddenly  disappeared 
through  the  little  door  that  opened  under  the  stage, 
anticipating  an  "  unpleasantness." 

Gentlemen,"  exclaimed  Snodkins,  seeing  that  there 
were  no  females  in  the  house,  "  I  throw  myself  upon 
your  proverbial  generosity.  I  have  been  annoyed  dar- 
ing the  entire  evening  by  the  braying  of  an  ass,  who 
has  been  eating  shavings  all  his  life,  believing  them  to 
be  grass,  because  he  has  viewed  them  through  green 
spectacles." 

''That's  a  fact!  Pitch  into  him!"  came  from  the 
audience. 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  performed  the  part  of  Sir 
Edward  Mortimer  often  and  often  before  highly  dis- 
criminating audiences,  and  never  yet  was  inter- 
riipted  " 


112  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

'\  Because  they  never  thought  you  worthy  of  notice  " 
I  his  voice  sounded  like  Sniggles's. 

''I  can  whip  that  fellow;  and  Til  do  it  too,"  shouted 
the  actor. 

That's  right !  give  him  goss !  "  from  the  pit. 

"  If  Mr.  Sniggles  can  render  the  part  with  more 
ettect,  let  him  try  it,"  continued  Snodkins.  "I  am 
wilhng  to  leave  the  decision  to  the  judgment  of  a  com- 
mittee of  gentlemen  selected  by  yourselves." 

"  There's  no  such  person  here  "—from  Sniggles. 

"Are  there  any  police  officers  in  the  building"?" 
asked  the  beneficiary,  looking  around.  "If  there  are 
I  order  them  to  take  that  ruffian  out."  ' 

Here  the  cry  became  pretty  general,  "Turn  him 
out!  "  But  Sniggles  had  his  friends  around  him,  and 
they  seemed  ready  to  meet  the  emergency.  He  arose 
from  his  seat,  and  was  about  uttering  a  rejoinder  to  the 
hostile  remarks  of  Snodkins,  when  John  Utt,  the  stage 
manager,  made  his  appearance,  and  stated  to  the  audi- 
ence  that,  as  the  two  tragic  aspirants  had,  ever  since 
the  opening  of  the  theatre,  kept  up  a  continual  war- 
fare,  much  to  the  injury  of  the  company's  reputation 
and  the  respectability  of  the  establishment,  the  manage- 
ment had  thought  it  advisable  to  discharge  them  both  ; 
and  as  there  was  a  spacious  green  in  front  of  the  build- 
ing, he  hoped  the  rivals  would  proceed  thither  and 
settle  the  difficulties  by  a  passage  at  arms,  and  backed 
by  their  respective  friends.  He  pledged  himself,  for  he 
was  a  powerful  man  and  an  expert  bruiser,  to  thrash 
the  victor  when  the  combat  was  over. 

In  a  few  moments  the  seats  were  empty,  and  Snodkins 
and  Sniggles  ended  the  evening's  entertainment  with  a 
display  of  pugilism  that  did  them  more  credit  than 
their  acting  on  the  boards;  both  being  carried  off  the 
field  with  honorable  scars.  A  few  nights  after,  the 
theatre  was  a  heap  of  charred  ruins. 


Juvenile  Theatricals. 

Be  it  known  that  Baltimore,  in  former  times,  amply 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


113 


encouraged  the  drama  as  conceived  by  the  younger 
portion  of  the  community.  I  remember  having  wit- 
nessed the  performances  of  this  kind  once,  which  struck 
me  as  being  quite  unique  and  worthy  of  being  recorded 
in  these  retrospective  glances. 

Passing  through  an  obscure  street  in  Old  Town, 
during  the  early  part  of  the  night,  my  attention  was 
drawn  to  a  crowd  of  boys  collected  around  the  door  of 
a  decayed  and  dilapidated  hovel,  through  whose  walls 
a  bright  glare  of  light  shone,  indicating  that  something 
out  of  the  common  order  of  things  was  on  the  ta'pis. 
My  curiosity  was  not  so  overpowering  but  that  I 
might  have  passed  on,  had  not  the  following  announce- 
ment been  made  by  a  lad  who  stood  at  the  door  like  a 
single-headed  Cerberus,  seeming  to  be  taking  in  tickets 
of  admission  : 

"  Haint  yer  gwoin  to  come  in,  Jim  ?  Nick  Eobbins 
performs  to-night." 

This  was  enough  for  me.  Nick  was  a  star ;  so  I  fol- 
lowed at  the  heels  of  Jim,  and  have  never  since  thought 
my  half-dime  a  loss. 

The  introduction  to  this  entertainment  was  rather 
tiresome — Sports  of  the  ring  " — for  they  had  a  ring, 
not  a  political  one  like  those  of  modern  times,  and  the 
renowned  Nick  Eobbins  personated  the  clown,  and  re- 
peated the  jokes  of  Buckley  as  often  as  Buckley  had 
repeated  them  himself.  After  tumbling  heels  over 
head,  and  breaking  each  other's  noses,  to  the  no  small 
amusement  of  the  audience,  which  was  largely  juvenile, 
the  cow-bell  was  rung,  a  dirty  blanket  pulled  aside,  and 
a  rampart  of  packing-boxes  and  casks  presented  to  view, 
doubtless  intended  to  represent  the  fortress  of  Mont- 
gatz,  as  the  play  announced  was  "  Tekeli,"  a  drama 
then  highly  popular. 

The  useful  and  highly  talented  Nick  Eobbins  again 
made  his  appearance,  and  was  received  with  deafening 
applause.  He  bowed  his  acknowledgment  with  all  the 
stiffness  of  the  lever  of  a  steam-engine,  and  after  wiping 
his  nose  on  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  he  ordered  the  castle 
to  be  stormed,  and  brandishing  his  tin  hanger,  led  the 
attacking  party.    A  tremendous  hubbub  then  ensued. 


SHADOWS  ON  7HE  WALL; 

domif'.h?  l"''/'  ^"^^  enthusiasm  of  their  in- 

thPm  ^^-i  destraction  around 

^^o^fLViT:? ^^'^ ^-^^ ^- 

die^^ he;  "why  don't  you 
«  V  yoii'  you  know." 

You  don't  come  it  over  me  in  that  way  "  reolied 
Sle/rv  vf  -dignation.  "  I'^  not  gJln'  tS  be 
gS"^  ^  y*'^'  though  you  be  so 

thS'ff;b'^?^^'"f  "''^  ^         *^  t«^t,  swore 

doneU    bat  ^  ^       '^"^  '""''^  ^^^^ 

ur?,oiLt^S?h  '•'"T^''-"^  ""^  exterminated,  got 
Ittle^fr  fi  f'-'l'lT'^y^  r*^'  blubbering,  announced 
with  fh  J        r^'^^^u  h^^^  "^f^ing  "lore  to  do 

Sitt  nf  T  f  r'-r  self-possession  and 

cSided  wth  '''"^  T'^  applause:  and  the  piece 
concluded  with  a  general  explosion.  Packinij.boxes 
crates  and  casks  were  hurled  into  the  aTr  wfth  tre' 
of  tiriT''-  ^  '"'S'^'y  sensational  finale,  on" 

a1di3n^:rSloVs'.  '^'■^^^'^  ^^^--^'i 

"Gentlemen  — no,        and  gentlemen,  (seeing  a  little 
w'"/       spectators,)  thSse  what  gVt  through  he 
bettei  nn.  r  ^i""""'  ^'''^  ^^^-^P^.  ^nd  had 

Ntk  Eobh  nT-'*  '^7  '^"'^'t  a  licking, 

low  night,  as  his  mother  says  he  shan't  do  it  no  more 

pe??orme1  T\  v""!-^'"''  ^'^^  ^^^^^^ 
performed    Nick  Eobbins  will  play  the  devil." 

llere  tollowed  a  general  stampede,  and  the  company 

theCselye's  V  proceeL  of  the  night  Zon^^ 

themselyes  I  bent  my  way  towards  my  home  medf- 
tating  on  the  budding  talents  of  Nick  EoE'sTho 
iT^'  r^'t^        ^^^'^  "  th<^  next  night.    Cw  mly 

itluLtVJ''  '^^/k"  *'^t  ^''■''^  drama  o?li?J! 
J- he  stump  orator,  as  he  "  breathes  words  of  fire  "  into 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


115 


the  ears  of  the  multitude,  thinks  he  is  playing  the 
devil.  The  proud  belle,  as  she  skips  from  store  to 
store  on  a  shopping  expedition,  and  sets  the  knights  of 
the  yard-stick  crazy  with  her ''foreign  airs  and  native 
graces,"  thinks  she  is  playing  the  devil.  The  poet,  as 
he  brings  forth  his  pet  bantling,  and  praises  the  grace- 
ful turn  of  his  fair  one's  nose,  thinks  he  is  playing  the 
devil  The  editor,  who  plods  and  worries  himself  night 
and  day  to  put  together  such  matter  as  he  thinks  will 
please  a  few  thankless  subscribers,  who  turns  his  hat 
jauntily  on  the  side  of  his  head  and  struts  when  his 
journal  is  out,  thinks  he  is  playing  the  devil.  It  is  so 
all  the  world  over.  -o  ,  t  . 

Some  years  after  I  saw  the  aspiring  ISTick  Kobbins  on 
the  stage  of  the  Holliday  Street  Theatre.  He  took  the 
character  of  the  halberdier  in  Kichard  IIL,  who  says 
to  the  crook'd-back,  "  Stand  by,  my  lord,  and  let  the 
coffin  pass." 

An  Old  and  Celebrated  Theatrical  Resort. 

The  celebrated  underground  oyster  and  general  eat- 
ing establishment,  long  known  as  Boyd's  Cellar,"  was 
the  resort  in  former  days  of  the  wags  and  hon  vivants  of 
Baltimore.  It  is  now  no  more,  having  to  give  way  to 
the  march  of  modern  improvement.  In  1876  the  massive 
buildinor  of  the  Baltimore  Safe  Company,  South  street, 
was  raTsed  on  the  spot  so  long  occupied  by  the  well- 
known  rendezvous  of  noted  characters. 

John  Boyd,  a  braw  Scotchman,  was  the  original  pro- 
prietor of  this  underground  temple  of  Bacchus  and 
Momus,  and  made  quite  a  fortune  through  bis  industry 
and  tact.  Subsequently  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  Joseph 
Keilly,  a  good  caterer,  who  kept  pace  with  the  times  in 
the  way  of  improvements  and  conveniences;  but  when 
the  change  took  place,  even  the  ghosts  of  the  departed 
did  not  haunt  the  dingy  vaults ;  the  shadows  of  the 
jovial  and  free-hearted  were  not  cast  upon  its  walls,  and 
the  loud  laugh  and  merry  songs  of  other  days  were 
heard  no  more.    In  past  times  it  was  the  retreat  of  all 


SHADOWS  OAr  THE  WALL; 
Tt' e5dt"je'C:r  W^'  "^^'i^^^  ^^^^  «f  'J^e  city. 

Bated  there.    Thev  e]eoVrl  t         1    ^""^    ^""^  '^"g^" 
the  latter  for  the  ^purpose  of  ^^^^^^        ^""^  secretary, 
jokes  that  were  p]S°alI  the  hfn"^ 
•    and  all  the  storiei  related     ih  J^  perpetrated, 

of  this  club,  individStf-^ho  ;UrtiS^ 

back  against  the  wall  <r^u-u    J^?''^  tilt  their  chairs 

small  d^oses  look  demn.^  '^'.'r''"  leverage  in 

ottered,  not  venL-lnron'e 'of  .i''-  '"  *°  ^^ery  Wd 
town  clock  strnel  fLA         5  ^hen  the 

lastdi^p  of  th^^^^^^  sip  the 

off,  probably  veTturi^'  to  ^l*  ""1^"'^*'  ^"^^'^'l^ 

the  Lrner  Jf Ihe  nexAJreet^^  '^'^ 

-IT  F-ofitable  to 

ance.  The  old  tenXt  it  "  Vu^"'''''' '°  ^^t^nd- 
centre  of  thflloo;^!'^^     \       "'"'^      occupy  the 

^orhotfoddtr^:  l"o£fof"f^^  ""5^  «^ 
to  them.    For  reaiN  tW  particular  interest 

sides,  and  on  manv  «  T^^?^'^  ^^s  corroded 

their'  feet  agaiis7it     Cf  "'^^V^^^d  they  warmed 

unfortunate  innovntinn  •  +x  pJace.    It  was  an 

"  Quid  ^^unc   '  tb,^°I'  "°  <^id  the  taciturn 

iting  the  cellar   nor  coJldfb?^?         ^^^^  ^^^^^^ 


ORy  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


117 


was  not  of  the  most  brilliant  order,  yet  he  was  ever 
ready  at  an  anecdote,  and  always  had  in  store  many  to 
relate  of  the  celebrities  who  visited  his  restaurant.  It 
was  pleasant  to  hear  him  talk,  particularly  when  in 
argument  with  Adam  Duncan.  They  were  both  Scotch- 
men, and  the  flowing  of  the  dialect  was  like  sweet  music 
to  the  ear. 

I  have  said  that  even  the  ghosts  of  the  departed 
celebrities  did  not  deign  to  haunt  the  vaults  of  this  re- 
sort. I  was  wrong.  There  were  hanging  on  the  walls 
of  the  old  curiosity  shop  "  the  portrait  of  many  a  de- 
parted worthy.  The  living  are  associating  with  the 
dead;  the  spirits  of  the  past,  to  this  day,  may  be  seen 
by  a  visit  to  the  more  modern  establishment  of  Mr. 
Joseph  Eeiliy. 

There  still  stands  the  old  "  Shakspearean  Table," 
around  which  gathered  the  well-known  actors  of  former 
days,  politicians,  litterateurs  and  merchants.    In  the 

curiosity  shop  "  the  visitor  can  hold  communion  with 
the  elder  Jefferson,  the  father  of  a  race  of  stars ;  the 
elder  Booth,  as  Brutus;  Mr.  Warren,  as  Sir  Peter 
Teazle  ;  Forrest,  as  EoUa  ;  Hilson,  as  Tyke;  Mr.  Francis, 
as  Sir  George  Thunder;  Mr.  Macready ;  James  W.  Wal- 
lack;  Neafie;  J.  Proctor,  the  "Nick  of  the  Woods"; 
J.  Collins,  the  Protean  actor,  and  a  host  of  others. 
Besides  these  theatrical  ghosts,  there  is  a  copy  of  the 
Baltimore  Evening  Post,  dated  January  28th,  1808,  pub- 
lished by  Niles  &  Frailey,  at  No.  39,  corner  of  South 
and  Water  streets.  This  dingy  phantom  of  the  press 
contains  a  criticism  on  the  new  city  charter  ";  also  an 
account  of  a  "destructive  fire,"  which  occurred  in  Port- 
land, Me.,  involving  a  loss  of  the  enormous  sum  of 
$25,000  !  In  those  times  a  million  dollar  fire  would,  in  all 
probability,  have  caused  general  bankruptcy  of  the  in- 
surance companies. 

jP.  R.  S.    James  W  ,  in  former  days  a  well-known 

wag,  once  played  a  capital  joke  on  Boyd.  They  visited 
New  York  together.  On  their  arrival  at  that  city  they 
took  rooms  at  the  Astor  House,  and  in  due  form  entered 
their  names  in  the  register- book.     After  Boyd  had 


118 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


written  his  name  and  retired,  W  placed  the  letters 

F.  E.  S.  after  the  signature,  and  then  ascended  to  his 
own  apartment,  trusting  to  luck  for  the  results.  ' 

In  the  morning,  as  usual,  the  register  was  examined 
by  drummers/'  reporters,  &c.,  and  it  was  soon  whis- 
pered around  that  a  learned  Fellow  of  the  Eoyal  Society 
had  taken  lodgings  at  the  Astor.  Before  noon  Boyd 
was  beset  by  inquisitive  visitors,  and  cards  of  invitation 
to  various  schools  of  learning.  Erudite  doctors  called 
upon  him,  expressed  their  unbounded  delight  at  his  visit 
to  the  city,  and  politely  invited  him  to  dine  with  them  ; 
in  fact,  they  would  consider  it  an  honor  if  he  would 
make  their  houses  his  home  while  he  remained  in  New 
York.  The  good-natured  Scotchman  was  quite  dumb- 
founded by  all  this  parade  and  polite  treatment,  of  which 
he  complained  to  his  travelling  companion,  whom  he 
urged  to  expedite  his  business,  in  order  that  they  might 
return  to  Baltimore  as  soon  as  possible. 

W — —  told  him  that  he  must  respond  to  the  various 
invitations,  and  even  hinted  that  he  ought  to  give  a 
dinner  at  the  Astor,  and  make  a  speech  in  respanse  to 
any  toast  that  might  be  given  in  compliment  to  him; 
all  this  attention  was  flattering  to  the  city  of  Baltimore, 
and  he,  as  a  prominent  citizen  of  that  city,  should  do 
credit  to  her.  Boyd  became  alarmed,  and  determined 
to  return  home  alone;  but,  happening  to  cast  his  eye 
on  the  register,  for  the  first  time  he  beheld  the  mysteri- 
ous letters  tacked  to  his  name. 

"  F.  E./  S.  The  de'il  gang  awa  wi'  me !  "  exclaimed 
he,  ''if  some  canny  poltroon  hasn't  been  takin'  o'er 
mickle  liberty  wi'  my  name.  That's  you,  Jim;  none 
but  you  wad  dare  do't.  Now,  tell  me,  mon,  what  wad 
ye  dub  me  F.  E.  S.  for?" 

"Psha!"  replied  W  ,  *'you  know  you  have  a 

diploma.  Gentlemen,"  continued  he,  addressing  the 
bystanders, ''this  is  honest  John  Boyd,  of  Baltimore, 
the  keeper  of  an  unrivalled  oyster  establishment;  not  a 
Fellow  of  the  Eoyal  Society,  but  A  number  one  on 
Fried^  Roasted  and  Stewed  I  " 

Boyd  laughed  as  heartily  at  the  joke  as  the  rest ;  for 


ORy  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


119 


if  he  Lad  a  weak  point,  it  was  his  susceptibility  to  flat- 
tery when  his  calling  was  alluded  to. 

Mr.  Eoyd  died  several  years  ago,  at  an  advanced  age. 
His  funeral  was  attended  by  many  of  the  leading  men 
of  Baltimore.  Gray-headed  men,  who  had  known  him 
many  years,  as  did  the  writer  of  this  book,  followed  him 
to  the  grave,  and,  while  they  shook  hands  with  each 
other  around  his  coffin,  they  seemed  to  ask  the  question, 
"Whose  turn  will  be  next?"  Among  these  lingering 
few  I  greeted,  after  many  years  of  separation,  several 
whose  friendship  I  valued  highly.    They  were  : 

Joshua  Vansant,  a  man  of  the  people,  whose  political 
career  has  been  marked  with  continued  success,  even  to 
the  present  period.  The  voters  of  Baltimore,  whether 
democrat,  whig,  or  conservative,  always  believed  in  his 
honesty  and  integrity ;  and  he,  somehow  or  other, 
managed  to  secure  friends  even  among  those  who  were 
opposed  to  him  in  sentiments.  During  his  life-time  he 
has  held  high  offices  under  the  General,  State  and  City 
governments ;  filling  them  all  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
constituents.  He  has  but  recently  retired  from  the 
Mayoralty,  to  which  office  he  was  elected  two  consecu- 
tive terms  by  the  Democratic  party.  He  will,  prob- 
ably, be  sent  to  Congress  a  second  time. 

Col,  Elijah  Stansbury,  formerly  Mayor  of  the  city,  and 
a  man  of  sterling  merit,  was  among  the  friends  of  the 
departed.  His  memoirs  have  already  appeared  in  book 
form. 

Col  Nicholas  Brewer,  now  one  of  the  oldest,  and  at 
the  same  time  most  active  among  the  "young  old 
men  of  Baltimore.  He  is  now  in  his  eighty-seventh 
year,  and  holds  the  office  of  Secretary  of  the  '*pid 
Defenders'  Association."  I  could,  and  ought  to  make 
a  more  extended  notice  of  this  I^estor  of  the  period  ; 
but  the  number  of  pages  I  have  yet  to  fill  up  cautions 
me  to  be  brief.  There  are  many  of  the  "  Old  Defen- 
ders "  whom  I  might  sketch,  but,  for  obvious  reasons',  I 
am  compelled  to  withhold  their  names. 

James  Lucas,  since  gone  to  join  his  associates  in 
"  another  and  a  better  world."    He  was,  at  the  time, 


120 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


the  oldest  printer  iu  Baltimore,  and,  perhaps,  the 
United  States,  and  a  man  of  probity  and  '  genial 
manners. 

Col,  Geo,  P.  Kane.  Another  popular  gentleman,  and 
the  recipient  of  honors  which  he  well  merited.  His  stern 
resistance  to  tyrannical  authority,  during  the  recent  con- 
test between  JNorth  and  South,  brought  down  upon  him 
the  vengeance  of  the  Federal  Government.  He  was 
sent  into  the  land  of  Dixie,  and  there  won  the  esteem 
and  respect  of  the  choice  spirits  of  the  "  rebellion,''  by 
his  noble  and  fearless  bearing  and  his  firm  adhesion  to 
the  cause. 

Everybody  in  those  days  knew,  or  ought  to  have 

known,  James  W  .    Being  a  hardware  merchant,  it 

was  not  at  all  surprising  that  he  was  a  good  judge  of 
another  kind  of  hardware  of  a  liquid  nature,  and  dealt 
in  cutlery.  He  was  a  notorious  wag,  and  always  had  a 
victim.  His  wit  was  of  the  first  order,  and  the  festive 
board  was  made  doubly  attractive  by  the  richness  of 
his  stories  and  anecdotes.  He  never  made  a  joke  of  his 
own,  but  invariably  compelled  his  victim  to  father  his 
funny  children.    For  instance,  his  most  intimate  friend 

was  Lemuel  L  ,  another  dealer  in  cutlery,  and  a 

good,  quiet  and  easy  man,  who  was  nevef  accused  of 
perpetrating  an  original  joke,  though  he  was  keen  in 
trade  and  always  eschewed  friendship  in  a  business 

transaction.    When  W  invented  a  good  thing  he 

would  say: — Lemuel  L — —  said  so  and  so,  or  did  so 
and  so,"  though  L  never  dreamed  such  a  thing. 

One  day  at  Boyd's,  L          complained  of  a  slight 

beaiiache.    His  friend,  bent  on  mischief,  and  knowing 

that  he  (L  )  always  "  threw  physic  to  the  dogs," 

recommended  that  he  should  take  Seidlitz  powders  as 
an  antidote.  The  victim  yielded  to  the  argument  of 
his  friend  ;  the  powders  were  brought,  and  the  dose  ad- 
ministered according  to  the  direction  of  the  new-fangled 
M.  D.,  who  emptied  the  contents  of  the  blue  and  white 
papers  into  separate  tumblers,  each  half  filled  with 
water. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OP  THE  PAST, 


121 


*^Now,  sir,"  said  W          to  his  patient,  ^'swallow 

this.    Now  this," 

The  victim  did  as  directed;  the  carbonate  of  soda 
and  tartaric  acid  met  in  his  stomach,  an  internal  effer- 
vescence took  place,  and  poor  L   came  near  ex- 
ploding. 

There  was  no  malice  in  W  's  jokes;  he  played 

them  for  the  fan  of  the  thing.  A  better-hearted  man 
never  breathed  the  free  air  of  heaven.  He  was  a  valu- 
able citizen  and  a  friend  to  the  needy. 

One  day  he,  in  company  with  a  waggish  lawyer  by 
the  name  of  Cox,  stood  at  the  corner  of  South  and  Bal- 
timore streets  at  about  the  noon  hour.  The  sky  was 
clear  and  the  sun  shone  bright.  A  great  throng  of 
pedestrians  were  passing  to  and  fro,  every  one  intent 

on  business  or  pleasure.    W          pointed  toward  the 

heavens,  and  remarked  aloud  to  Cox: — Don't  you  see 
it?    It's  quite  plain  to  me." 

The  passers  by,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  overhear- 
ing the  inquiry,  began  to  stop  and  gaze  upwards.  All 
wanted  to  know  what  it  was  that  so  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  two  gentlemen.  When  the  sky-gazers 
swelled  to  quite  a  crowd,  the  joker  remarked  : — "  A  star 
seen  in  broad  daylight  is  a  rare  occurrence."  All  now 
began  to  strain  their  optics,  and  some  averred  that 
they  saw  a  star  quite  plainly.  At  length  it  was  unani- 
mously agreed  that  Jupiter  was  visible. 

Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  W  ,  laughing, 

"  if  you  can  discover  Jupiter,  it's  more  than  I  can  "; 
and  he  took  Cox's  arm  and  left. 

At  one  time  he  came  near  ruining  the  reputation  of 
the  Museum  building,  at  the  corner  of  Baltimore  and 
Calvert  streets,  by  pointing  out  a  small  crack  in  the 
wall  near  the  third  story,  which  no  one  had  ever 
noticed  before.  The  proprietor  and  manager,  Mr. 
Charles  De  Selding,  had  to  go  to  the  expense  and 
trouble  of  calling  together  and  getting  the  opinion  of  a 
committee  of  well-known  carpenters  and  builders,  and 
publishing  the  same,  before  the  public  would  venture  to 
visit  his  saloon  to  witness  the  dramatic  performances. 


122 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


The  Military. 

The  readers  of  these  papers,  which  are  founded 
ostensibly  on  the  basis  of  the  writer's  memory,  can 
scarcely  expect  him  to  dive  so  deeply  into  the  days  of 
antiquity  as  to  confound  that  highly  respectable  old 
gentleman  known  as  the  oldest  inhabitant."  There 
is  space  enough  between  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century  and  the  fast  period  in  which  we  now  live,  to 
spin  out  sufficient  for  old  and  young  to  meditate  on. 
The  history  of  our  beloved  city  has  been  written  by 
abler  pens  than  the  one  that  is  now  wielded;  their 
works  are  therefore  recommended  to  those  who  would 
look  into  the  past.  The  commercial  prosperity  of  Bal- 
timore is  written  in  its  present  grandeur,  its  shipping, 
its  busy  workshops,  its  thriving  institutions  and 
splendid  edifices.  These  evidences'"  of  prosperity  may 
possibly  be  noticed  in  their  proper  places.  The  mili- 
tary department  is  now  under  consideration. 

History  throws  but  little  light  on  the  military  organi- 
zations of  the  young  days  of  Baltimore  town."  We 
have  a  right  to  believe  that  the  spirit  of  chivalry  was 
awake  in  the  days  of  the  first  settlers,  though  the  mate- 
rial might  have  been  rough  and  rare.  We  are  told  that 
the  hardy  pioneers  of  Maryland  kept  their  fire-arms 
continually  within  reach  ;  they  were  their  only  safe- 
guards against  the  red  men  of  the  forest.  In  the  year 
1729  sixty  acres  of  land  were  assigned  by  the  Assembly 
for  the  purpose  of  erecting  a  town  on  the  north  side  of 
the  Patapsco  river  in  Baltimore  county.  Commis- 
sioners were  appointed  to  carry  out  the  legislative 
enactment.  The  land  was  purchased  for  forty  shillings 
per  acre  ;  and  the  Commissioners  being  men  of  action, 
unlike  those  of  the  present  day,  the  plan  of  the  town 
was  mapped,  and,  though  Jones  Falls  continued  to 
empty  its  aromatic  waters  into  the  inky  and  loud 
smelling  basin  which  is  now  bounded  by  Federal  Hill, 
Light  and  Pratt  streets,  Baltimore  sprang  up,  and 
year  after  year  grew,  until  it  became  a  city  of  some  conse- 
quence. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


123 


In  order  to  resist  the  bands  of  Indians  prowling 
around  the  settlement,  the  men  of  the  then  sparse  com* 
munities  formed  themselves  into  volunteer  organiza- 
tions, among  which  the  "minute  men  "  were  most  con- 
spicuous. They  were  composed  of  stalwart  young  men, 
experts  in  the  use  of  the  rifle  and  "  firelock,"  and  on 
the  first  alarm,  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  resisting 
the  cunning  and  bloodthirsty  enemy.  There  was  little 
or  no  uniformity  in  dress.  They  answered  to  the  call 
with  their  trust}^  rifles,  usual  working  dress,  powder- 
horn,  and  a  buck-tail  in  their  hat.  The  expedition 
over,  and  the  redskins  used  up,  they  returned  to  their 
home-work  with  the  blessing  of  the  old  and  young  upon 
them. 

It  is  to  be  presumed  that,  as  the  settlement  gained 
strength,  the  original  owners  of  the  soil  retired  further 
into  the  interior,  and  the  colonists  reposed  in  more 
security.  In  after  years  the  militia  system  became  a 
matter  of  consideration  with  the  law-makers,  and  a 
regular  organization  took  place  throughout  the  colony. 

The  war  of  1776  stirred  up  the  patriotism  of  Balti- 
more, then  a  town  of  about  6000  inhabitants.  A  his- 
torical writer  remarks,  that  from  the  very  commence- 
ment of  the  conflict,  and  throughout  its  continuance, 
Maryland  entered  into  it  with  spirit  and  energy.  A 
constant  demand  was  made  upon  the  State  for  supplies 
of  both  troops  and  provisions,  on  account  of  its  nearness 
to  the  field  of  action.  The  demands  were  promptly 
met ;  and  the  troops  themselves,  by  their  gallant  con- 
duct in  many  a  hard-fought  battle,  have  made  "  the  old 
Marj'land  line  "  famous  in  the  annals  of  history.  At 
the  battle  of  Brooklyn  Heights,  August  27,  1776,  when 
the  Maryland  troops  were  for  the  first  time  brought 
into  action,  a  portion  of  a  battalion  shook  with  repeated 
bayonet-charges  an  entire  brigade  of  British  regulars. 
The  reputation  which  they  then  won  as  being  the  first 
American  troops  to  use  the  bayonet,  was  well  merited. 

In  1810,  two  years  previous  to  the  war  with  Great 
Britain,  and  when  the  population  of  Baltimore  amounted 
to  46,555,  we  find  the  military  ardor  up  to  fever 


124 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


heat.  Probably  this  was  owing  to  the  prospect  of  an 
outbreak,  and  a  natural  desire  to  be  prepared  for  the 
event.  At  that  period  the  volunteer  troops  were  or- 
ganized into  a  brigade,  under  the  command  of  General 
Strieker,  an  officer  who  afterwards  signalized  himself  at 
the  battle  of  North  Point.  The  command  was  com- 
posed of  the  following  companies  : 

In/anifr?/ —  Independent  Blues,  Captain  Me- 
chanical Volunteers,  Captain  E.  K.  Heath ;  Eepublican 
Company,  Captain  D.  Conn  ;  Volunteer  Guards,  Cap- 
tain John  W.  Glenn;  Independent  Company,  Captain 
S.  Stump  ;  United  Volunteers,  Captain  James  Cheston  \ 
Vanguard  Volunteers,  Captain  Wm.  H.  Winder. 

Cavalry —  Baltimore  Troop,  Captain  Henry 

Thompson ;   Independent  Light  Dragoons,  Captain 

 ;  First  Baltimore  Hussars,  Captain  Charles  Starett 

Eidgely;  Eepublican  Light  Dragoons,  Captain  — 
Maryland  Chasseurs,  Captain  Wm.  B.  Barney ;  Fell's 
Point  Light  Dragoons,  Captain  — — . 

Ar^iYZery  — Volunteer  Artillery,  Captain  DavidSarris  ; 

Eagle  Artillery,  Captain  ;  Washington  Artillerists, 

Captain  Eobert  Miller. 

We  cannot  find  any  rifle  companies  mentioned  at  this 
period.  There  were  two  infantry  regiments,  the  5th 
and  the  6th,  the  former  under  the  command  of  Lieu- 
tenant-colonel J.  A.  Buchanan.  W.  G.  D.  Worthington 
was  adjutant  of  the  6th ;  the  Colonel's  name  not  given. 

On  the  22d  February  these  companies  paraded  in 
honor  of  the  birthday  of  George  Washington.  The 
Volunteer  and  Eagle  Artillery  companies  fired  the 
salutes,  and  enjoyed  a  dinner  at  the  Columbian  Inn,  on 
which  occasion  many  patriotic  sentiments  were  uttered. 
The  Eepublican  Light  Dragoons,  of  Baltimore  county, 
celebrated  the  day  at  ''Mr.  Gashe's  dwelling-house  on 
the  Harford  road,  in  full  uniform,  and  heard  a  suitable 
sermon^ 

Alluding  to  the  parade,  the  American  remarks: — The 
brigade  commanded  by  General  Strieker  assembled  at 
an  early  hour,  each  company  in  its  usual  place  of 
parade  ;  after  which  the  line  of  march  was  formed  and 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


125 


Twarohed  out  to  Pratt  street,  when  ttie  firings  usual  on 
this  occasion  were  performed  with  a  precision  not  unbe- 
coming to  troops  more  accustomed  to  the  rigor  of 
military  discipline.  The  several  companies  were  not 
so  full  as  we  have  seen  them  on  similar  occasions. 
Their  appearance,  however,  was  martial,  and  could  not 
fail  to  inspire  a  sentiment  favorable  to  that  military 
force,  to  which  the  people  of  America  must  alone  look 
for  the  defence  of  their  independence  and  national  char- 
acter— we  mean  the  militia  of  the  country." 

The  war  of  1812  aroused  the  sleepers ;  and  the  various 
States  having  to  contribute  their  quota  of  fighting  men 
for  the  general  defence,  Maryland  was  not  in  the  least 
behindhand  in  doing  her  duty.  The  militia  force  of 
the  State  was  put  on  a  war-footing,  and  the  roll  of  the 
drum  brought  the  youth  and  chivalry  from  every 
section.  From  the  commencement  of  the  war,  the 
Chesapeake  Bay  was  closely  blockaded  by  the  ^-  wooden 
walls  "  of  Britannia.  It  formed  the  nearest  approach  to 
the  national  capital,  and  its  waters  were  of  vast  value 
to  the  enemy.  In  1814  the  war  was  brought  directly 
to  the  doors  of  our  citizens.  Hitherto,  descents  had 
been  made  by  the  enemy's  fleets  on  the  comparatively 
defenceless  points  along  the  bay  shore.  However,  in 
August  of  this  year  a  force  of  5000  men,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Gen.  Eoss,  was  landed  on  the  Patuxent  river, 
and  took  up  their  line  of  march  towards  Washington. 
These  troops  were  resisted  by  a  force  of  Americans, 
which  had  been  hastily  gathered  at  Bladensburg,  on  the 
24th  of  August.  A  battle  was  fought;  but,  as  it  was 
not  at  all  creditable  to  American  prowess,  I  shall  only 
allude  to  it,  and  record  the  arrival  of  the  Britishers  " 
at  the  capital,  and  the  consequent  burning  of  the 
National  Capitol,  the  President's  mansion,  Government 
ofiices,  public  records,  library,  &c. 

Flushed  with  victory.  General  Eoss  turned  his  face 
toward  Baltimore.  He  succeeded  in  landing  a  force  of 
5000  men  at  North  Point.  This  party  of  invaders  was 
met  by  afar  inferior  force  of  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania 
militia,  and  a  battle  was  fought  on  the  12th  of  Septem- 


126 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


ber,  1812,  which  not  only  saved  the  Monumental  City 
from  a  rapacious  enemj^,  whose  cry  was  booty  and 
beauty/'  but  deprived  the  invaders  of  their  General, 
who  fell  early  in  the  engagement,  killed  by  a  rifle-ball 
from  the  unerring  tube,  it  is  said,  of  one  of  the  ^' Sharp, 
shooters";  two  of  them,  Wells  and  McComas,  having 
concealed  themselves  in  the  undergrowth,  and  picked 
off  the  leader  at  the  head  of  his  troops.  Both  riflemen 
were  killed  by  a  well  directed  volley  from  the  muskets 
of  the  invaders. 

The  next  movement  of  the  enemy  was  an  attempt  to 
reduce  Fort  McHenry,  which  effort  took  place  on  the 
evening  of  the  13th,  but  proved  unsuccessful.  During 
the  night  a  force  of  the  enemy,  which,  under  cover  of 
the  fleet,  had  passed  by  the  fort  in  barges,  was  met  by 
a  destructive  fire  from  batteries  which  had  been  erected 
along  the  shore  of  the  Patapsco,  so  that  one  of  the  barges 
was  struck,  and  the  others  retreated  to  the  fleet. 

The  glory  our  vohmteer  troops  lost  at  Bladensburg 
was  regained  at  North  Point.  Though  composed  of 
raw  material,  they  acted  their  parts  like  veterans. 
Many  of  the  *^  Old  Defenders"  are  now  living,  spinning 
out  the  slender  threads  of  life,  with  the  hope  of  a  peace- 
ful eternity. 

A  good  story  is  told  jof  a  printer  of  Baltimore,  who 
commanded  a  battalion  in  the  battle  of  JSIorth  Point. 
Not  liking  his  exposed  position,  while  the  bullets  of  the 
enemy  were  flying  thickly  around  him,  he  sought 
shelter  behind  a  tree,  and  from  that  standpoint  shrieked 
out  his  commands.  Finding  that  his  men  were  no 
more  disposed  to  stand  fire  than  he  was,  and  had 
become  considerably  scattered,  he  bellowed  out,  Stand 
your  ground,  men ;  confound  you !  don't  you  see  you 
are  throwing  yourselves  into  pif 

The  war  closed  with  the  treaty  of  Ghent,  which  was 
signed  on  the  14th  of  December,  and  ratified  by  the 
United  States  on  the  17th  of  February  following.  With 
the  quiet  of  peace  came  a  falling  off  in  military  ardor. 
The  companies  that  had  done  good  service,  as  well  as 
those  that  had_done>othing  at  all,  were  disbanded  and 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


127 


retired  on  their  laurels.  Of  course,  there  was  a  good 
deal  for  the  veterans  to  talk  about ;  they  loved  to  fight 
their  battles  o'er  again/'  and  cherished  an  utter  detesta- 
tion for  sunshine  soldiery.  Consequently,  military  ardor 
was  at  a  low  ebb  for  many  years;  and,  though  niany 
organizations  were  kept  up,  yet  they  were  strictly 
volunteer,  for  the  militia  law  was  in  such  bad  odor  with 
the  people,  that  almost  every  law  parade  "  was  turned 
into  a  burlesque.  Printed  caricatures  and  travestied 
battle-songs  were  circulated  all  over  the  country.  A 
print,  representing  a  militia  muster,  from  the  pencil  of 
a  celebrated  caricaturist  named  Johnson,  so  lampooned 
the  whole  affair,  that  even  the  uniformed  volunteers 
were  ashamed  to  be  seen  on  parade,  and  there  was  little 
or  no  protection  for  lives  and  property  for  at  least  a 
decade. 

The  military  spirit  began  to  rise  during  the  year 
1830,  and  kept  up  for  many  years  after  that  period. 
The  company  organizations  were  numerous  and  varie- 
gated; every  corps  consulting  its  own  taste  as  to  the 
cut  and  color  of  its  own  uniform.  A  general  parade 
exhibited  every  variety  of  hue,  and  looked  like  a 
straightened-out  rainbow.  It  seemed  to  be  a  desire  of 
every  company  to  "show  its  colors."  The  entire 
division  was  under  the  command  of  Major-general  Geo. 
H.  Stewart,  while  the  brigades  were  under  the  charge 
of  Brigadier-generals  E.  L.  Finley  and  Joshua  Medtart. 
The  regiments  were  well  filled,  and  a  great  variety  of 
splendid  dresses,  together  with  the  excellent  music  of 
numerous  bands,  niade  the  display  quite  enlivening. 
On  one  occasion  the  entire  division  paid  a  visit  to  the 
city  of  Washington,  and,  of  course,  created  quite  a  sen- 
sation in  the  ''city  of  acute  angles."  The  Evening 
Transcript,  alluding  to  one  of  these  general  parades, 
asks:— Why,  in  the  name  of  flints  and  triggers,  were 
the  troops,  in  all  their  '  pride,  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  glorious  war,' marched  to  'horse  heaven'?  After 
two  hours  standing  in  Gay  street,  they  certainly  might 
have  had  a  more  refreshing  retreat.  It  was  well  the 
cavalry  were  not  out  on  this  occasion;  many  a  spirited 


128  SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

Bucephalus  would  have  kicked  and  snorted  in  venera- 
tion of  the  manes  of  the  departed  of  his  race."  This 
display  of  the  elite  of  the  soldiery  did  not  please  the 

TIa  ^^^^^^  ^•'^        atmosphere  of  the 

held  offended  high  heaven  with  its  stench. 

The  volunteer  division  was  composed  of  the  following 
companies :  ^ 

/n/oKfrz/.— Independent  Blues,  Captain  G.  D.  Spurrier- 
Light  Infan  try^  Captain  King;  Lafayette  Guard,  Captain 
Laloup ;  Old  Town  Volunteers,  Captain  Hennick  ;  In- 
vincibles,  Captain  J.  M.  Anderson ;  Law  Greys,  Captain 
Bowers;  Eutaw  Infantry,  Captain  Charles  Keyser;  and 
Maryland  Cadets,  Captain  Newman. 

.B2/?eOTen.— Sharpshooters,  Captain  Jacob  Gross;  Mor- 
gan Kiflemen,  Captain  James  Maguire;  Marion  Eifle 
Corps^  Captain  J.  K.  Hewitt;  Columbia  Riflemen,  Cap- 
tain Dutton,  and  German  Yagers,  Captain  Elterman. 

Anillery.-^^g\^^  Captain  Watson;  Junior,  Captain 
McJiinnel.  ^ 

Cat;a?r2/ -Butchers'  Troop,  Captain  Thompson,  and 
l*irst  liight  Dragoons,  Captain  Benzinger. 
_  A  veteran  ofiicer,  one  who  has  taken  much  interest 
jn  military  affairs,  and  who  ought  to  know,  furnished 
me  with  the  organizations  of  1835. 

Cavalry  Eegiment,  Owen  Bouldin,  Colonel ;  Fifth  In- 
fantry Eegiment,  Ben.  C.  Howard,  Colonel ;  First  Eifle 
Eegiment,  James  Medtart,  Colonel.  The  companies 
stood  as  follows : 

First  Light  Dragoons,  First  Cavalry  Regiment,  Cap- 
tain Eenzinger;  Junior  Artillery,  Artillery  Eegiment, 
Captain  Joseph  Wiley ;  First  Baltimore  Li^ht  Infantry 
fifth  Eegiment,  Captain  N.  Hickman;  Marion  Eifle 
Corps,  First  Eifle  Eegiment,  Captain  W.  G.  Cook  •  In- 
dependent Blues,  Captain  G.  D.  Spurrier;  Independent 
Greys,  First  Eifle  Eegiment,  Captain  J.  M.  Anderson  ; 
Jialtimore  City  Guards  (Independent),  Captain  Cheves. 
_  Ihis  arrangement  differs  somewhat  from  mine;  but 
It  IS  not  at  all  surprising,  when  the  reader  learns  that 
the  organizations  were  continually  changing,  and  in 
some  instances,  two  or  three  elections  for  ofiicers  took 
place  in  the  course  of  a  year. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


129 


The  following  history  of  that  once  celebrated  com- 
pany, the  Independent  Greys,  furnished  me  by  an  old 
member,  will  not  prove  uninteresting  to  many  of  my 
readers ;  1  therefore  give  it  a  place : 

The  Independent  Greys  were  organized  August  14th, 
1833,  on  the  cellar-door  at  the  corner  of  Gay  and  Exeter 
streets.  James  M.  Anderson  was  chosen  Captain,  and 
their  first  parade  was  made  March  18th,  1833.  James 
O.  Law  was  elected  Captain,  March  1837.  At  that  time 
the  company  numbered  about  forty  men.  Eobert  Hall, 
First  Lieutenant;  Augustus  P.  Shutt,  Second  Lieuten- 
ant ;  Charles  C.  Egerton,  Third  Lieutenant ;  George  P. 
Kane,  Ensign. 

July  4th,  1846,  the  company  visited  Philadelphia 
with  46  muskets,  3  officers,  and  band  of  18  pieces.  At 
that  time  it  was  the  finest  drilled  corps  in  the  country. 

--James  O.  Law  died  in  June,  1847.  Eobert  Hall 
succeeded  him  in  the  command.  Lieutenants :  Charles 
C.  Egerton,  J.  W.  J.  Saunders,  Geo.  M.  Brown  ;  Thomas 
Bowers,  Ensign. 

In  the  year  1847  the  Greys  sent  a  company  to 
Mexico,  commanded  by  George  W.  Brown.  Lieuten- 
ants :  Washington  Hopper,  James  O'Brian  and  John  H. 
Grenewell. 

In  June,  1850,  Eobert  Hall,  Captain,  commanding 
the  corps,  numbering  60  muskets,  visited  New  York 
and  gave  several  exhibition  drills,  the  like  of  which 
had  never  been  seen  in  that  city  before.  On  the  2d 
September,  Ensign  Bowers  and  22  of  the  most  active 
members  of  the  corps  withdrew  and  formed  the  Law 
Grej^s.  Many  thought  the  star  of  the  old  organization 
had  set;  but,  on  the  12th  of  the  said  month,  they 
paraded  44  muskets.  The  excitement  between  the  old 
and  the  new  companies  continued,  and  each  showed  an 
increase  every  parade,  till  the  20th  of  October,  1851. 
That  day  the  Independent  Greys  made  the  largest 
parade,  for  a  company,  that  has  ever  taken  place  in  the 
city  of  Baltimore.  The  muster-roll  stood :  5  officers, 
119  muskets,  and  18  members  in  the  band  (regular 
members  of  the  corps).  In  April,  1852,  Eobert  Hall 
6* 


130 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


resigned  the  captaincy,  and  was  succeeded  by  Charles 
C.  Egerton.  Under  Captain  Egerton,  in  June,  the  com- 
mand was  selected  as  a  guard  of  honor  at  the  Henry 
Clay  funeral.    They  paraded  91  muskets. 

Capt.  Egerton,  being  made  Major  of  the  53d  regi- 
ment, was  succeeded  in  the  captaincy  by  E.  S.  Eipley, 
(afterwards  Major-general  in  the  C.  S.  A.),  July  8th,  1853! 

In  ^^ovember,  1855,  C.  W.  Brush  was  made  captain. 
September,  1857,  Captain  Brush,,  being  commissioned 
Colonel  of  the  53d  regiment,  Lieut.  L.  B.  Simpson  com- 
manded the  company  till  March,  1860.  Under  Lieut. 
Simpson  the  company  changed  its  uniform,  and  also' 
under  him  it  made  its  smallest  parade,  13  muskets  at 
Col.  Davis's  funeral.  In  March,  1860,  J.  Lyle  Clark 
had  the  satisfaction  of  parading  61  muskets,  and  the 
increase  of  membership  became  so  that  on  the  9th  of 
February,  1861,  a  battalion  of  three  companies  was 
formed,  officered  as  follows :— Company  A:  J.  Lyle 
Clark,  captain  ;  F.  M.  Kershner,  first  lieutenant ;  James 
E.  Herbert,  second.  Company  H :  B.  L.  Simpson,  cap- 
tain ;  William  Gibson,  first,  and  G.  F.  Eeinecker  second 
lieutenant.  Company  I:  Thos.  B.  Allard,  captain; 
John  H.  Janney  first,  and  J.  JST.  K.  Monmonier  second 
lieutenant. 

The  ball  on  the  22d  February  was  the  largest  and 
most  successful  entertainment  of  the  kind  ever  known 
in  this  city.  It  was  opened  by  a  drill  of  Company  A, 
Capt.  Clark.  The  week  following  an  exhibition  drill 
was  given  at  the  Maryland  Institute,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  working-men  of  the  city  out  of  employment. 

On  the  19th  April  the  battalion  reported  promptly 
to  the  order  of  Col.  C.  W.  Brush  (commanding  the  53d 
regiment),  and  remained  on  duty  till  the  8th  May ;  on 
that  day  they  made  their  last  parade. 

Many  of  the  members  went  South  and  entered  the 
1st  Maryland  regiment,  and  were  known  as  Company 
B,  Independent  Greys,  Capt.  J.  E.  Herbert.  Others 
joined  Capt.  J.  Lyle  Clark's  company  of  Maryland 
Guards  in  the  21st  Virginia.  Many  who  were  Union 
men  entered  the  Federal  army  under  Col.  B.  L.  Simp- 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


131 


son,  Col.  Thos.  B.  Allard  and  Col.  C.  A.  Ilolton.  After 
the  war  no  effort  was  made  to  reorganize  the  com- 
mand, and  the  matter  remained  quiet  till  1874,  when  a 
call  was  made,  inviting  the  former  officers  and  members 
to  attend  a  meeting  for  the  purpose  of  reorganization. 
It  was  promptly  responded  to,  and  there  was  something 
over  80  names  subscribed.  The  affair,  however,  failed 
in  its  object.  A  company  of  Independent  G-reys  did 
good  service  at  Harper's  Ferry  at  the  capture  of  the 
XJ.  S.  workshops  from  the  John  Brown  raiders. 

It  is  recorded  that  the  4th  July,  1812,  was  celebrated 
by  the  military  of  Baltimore  with  unusual  spirit.  The 
thirst  for  glory  was  at  its  height.  A  war  with  the 
mother-country  stirred  up  the  chivalry  of  the  youth, 
while  the  G-eneral  Grovernment  was  arming  to  resist  the 
assaults  of  a  powerful  foe.  On  the  occasion  alluded  to, 
the  display  was  made  by  the  United  Volunteers,  Capt. 
David  Warfield;  Independent  Company,  Capt.  S. 
Stump;  Columbia  Volunteers,  Capt.  C.  Warfield,  and 

Mechanical  Volunteers,  Capt.   ;   the  Artillery 

Eegiment,  under  Col.  Harris,  was  composed  of  the 
Volunteer  Artillery,  Capt.  Buffon;  Washington  Artillery, 
Capt.  Edward  Denison ;  Independent  Artillery,  Capt. 
Christopher  Hughes,  Jr.  The  calvary  consisted  of  the 
First  Baltimore  Troop,  under  command  of  Col.  Biays. 
Salutes  were  fired  at  sunrise,  noon  and  sunset.  During 
the  day  the  different  corps  separated  and  enjoyed 
dinners  at  places  of  their  own  selection,  where  patri- 
otic speeches,  sentiments  and  songs  were  rendered. 
How  different  from  the  celebration  of  our  natal  day  at 
the  present  period! 

Reception  of  Lafayette. 

The  reception  of  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  which  oc- 
curred in  the  year  1824,  was  a  showy  affair.  The  full 
force  of  the  military  turned  out  on  that  occasion,  and 
their  appearance  was  highly  complimented  by  the  aged 
hero,  who  was  so  elated  with  the  warlike  show  that  he 
freely  bestowed  his  encomiums  on  his  return  to  France. 


132 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


A  work  of  two  volumes,  entitled  "  Mons.  Lafayette  in 
America,"  published  in  Paris,  gave  an  elaborate  account 
of  the  Marquis's  reception  in  the  United  States,  and 
dwelt  particularly  on  Baltimore.  The  infantry  arm 
was  specially  complimented.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  work  was  arranged  by  one  of  the  attaches  to  the 
staff  of  the  nation's  guest,  and  he  himself  sanctioned 
what  was  written. 

A  friend  relates  an  anecdote  of  I/afayette  which  may 
very  properly  be  introduced  here. 

The  old  gentleman,  in  the  fulness  of  his  gratitude, 
or,  more  properly,  prompted  by  the  characteristic 
politeness  of  Frenchmen,  had  contracted  a  habit  of  rub- 
bing his  hands,  smiling  blandly,  and  exclaiming,  when- 
ever a  person  was  introduced  to  him^  Oh,  I  am  so 
happy !  "  Now,  it  happened  that  a  serious-looking 
gentleman,  dressed  in  a  full  suit  of  black,  with  a  long 
piece  of  crape  pending  from  his  hat^  was  brought  before 
the  Marquis  by  one  of  the  "  Committee  on  Introduc- 
tion." He  was  introduced,  and  the  Frenchman  shook 
him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

*'flow  is  your  good  madam?"  asked  he,  with  a 
smile. 

"Alas!  sir,"  replied  the  gentleman,  seriously,  "I 
buried  her  two  weeks  ago." 

"  Ah,  I  am  so  happy,  so  very  happy !  "  exclaimed  the 
Marquis,  abstractedly;  while  the  mourner  expressed  more 
surprise  than  anger  as  he  passed  on,  wondering  how 
people  could  persistently  laud  the  habitual  politeness  of 
the  French. 

Remarkable  Public  Display. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  public  displays  on  record 
took  place  in  Baltimore  in  the  year  1828,  on  the  anniver- 
sary of  our  national  independence.  It  was  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  laying  of  the  foundation-stone  of  the  Baltimore 
&  Ohio  Eailroad  by  the  venerable  Charles  Carroll,  of  Car- 
roUton,  the  last  signer  of  the  Declaration.  It  is  true 
the  military,  with  the  exception  of  an  escort  squadron 
of  cavalry,  took  no  part  in  it ;  yet  I  cannot  help  refer- 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


133 


ring  to  it  in  this  part  of  my  recollections.  A  full  de- 
scription of  this  great  affair  would  occupy  too  much 
space  for  a  work  of  this  kind  ;  I  will,  therefore,  merely 
glance  at  it. 

It  was  a  unique  display  of  the  mechanic  arts,  in 
which  almost  every  trade  and  profession  (save  those  of 
dishonesty)  was  represented,  either  by  appropriate 
banners  or  machinery  in  full  operation.  Tailors, 
hatters,  shoemakers,  printers,  shipwrights,  carpenters, 
blacksmiths,  machinists,  farmers,  barbers,  in  fact  every 
trade  and  occupation,  had  its  car  with  operatives  in  full 
work.  The  printers  and  shipwrights,  in  particular, 
gave  the  world  of  gazers  a  full  idea  of  the  mysteries  of 
their  craft.  The  printers  had  a  light  hand-press  on  a 
platform,  type-cases  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a 
complete  printing-office,  from  which  they  issued  copies 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  which  were  scat- 
tered among  the  surging  masses  of  people  who  followed 
the  procession.  Hezekiah  ^iles,  then  in  an  advanced 
stage  of  life,  presided  over  this  establishment,  attached 
to  which  were  winged  Mercuries,  represented  by  hand- 
some boys,  one  of  them  the  son  of  Gen.  Benjamin  Edes, 
a  printer,  and  the  grandson  of  the  venerable  Peter 
Edes,  who  sat  upon  the  platform  of  the  car,  with  spec- 
tacles on  his  nose,  representing  the  proof-reader  of  the 
establishment.  Mr.  Edes  was,  at  that  time,  the  oldest 
printer  in  the  United  States. 

The  shipwrights  navigated  through  the  streets  a  full- 
rigged  ship,  complete  in  every  department,  and  fully 
manned  with  jolly  Jack-tars,  whose  cheerful  Yo !  heave 
ho  !  "  might  be  heard  above  the  high  martial  strains  of 
music.  Ever  and  anon  a  sailor  would  heave  the  lead, 
and  announce  the  soundings  with  '*Mark,  quarter 
seven  !  "  while  the  boatswain's  whistle  kept  up  a  shrill 
note  and  stirred  the  crew  to  action. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  couple  of  countrymen  who  came 
all  the  way  from  Alleghany  County  to  witness  the  great 
display  which  inaugurated  the  prosperity  of  Baltimore. 
They  arrived  in  the  city  during  the  previous  night,  and 
applied  for  lodgings  at  one  of  the  Howard  Street  hotels. 


13i 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


Every  room  was  occupied  except  a  small  chamber  with- 
out windows,  which  was  usually  used  as  a  convenience 
for  stowing  away  the  surplus  sheets,  blankets  and  bed- 
ding during  the  dull  season.  Besides  a  bedstead  and  a 
couple  of  chairs,  this  room  contained  no  furniture  but 
an  old-fashioned  wardrobe  with  drawers,  and  an  upper 
section  with  glass  doors  opening  to  the  right  and  left. 
The  countrymen  were  shown  into  their  apartment, 
and,  without  surveying  the  surroundings,  blew  out  the 
light  and  jumped  into  bed.  Their  sleep  was  long  and 
sound,  for  they  were  fatigued.  The  bright  sun  arose 
upon  the  busy  city,  but  not  a  ray  of  its  glorious  light 
greeted  the  eyes  of  the  travellers,  who  tossed  and 
tumbled  about,  wondering  at  the  length  of  the  night.  At 
length  one  of  them  suggested  that  the  window-shutters 
might  be  closed.  He  felt  his  way  cautiously  through 
the  dark  and  came  to  the  wardrobe,  the  glass  door  of 
which  he  opened.  Thrusting  his  head  inside,  he  gazed 
into  impenetrable  darkness,  looked  toward  the  heavens, 
but  could  see  no  stars,  or  gentle  moon  or  golden  sun. 
Pitchy  darkness  and  dead  silence  prevailed. 

"  Consarn  it !  "  said  he  to  his  companion,  as  he  re- 
turned to  his  pillow,  *^  this  is  the  longest  night  I  ever 
knowed ;  no  nothing  to  be  seen  out  o'  the  winder. 
I  reckon  they're  not  goin'  to  postpone  the  show. 
Well,  we'd  better  sleep  a  little  longer,  and  then,  maybe, 
the  sun'U  come  up,  if  it  isn't  the  last  day." 

So  they  slept  again  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  were 
awakened  by  strains  of  music,  very  faint,  but  still  dis- 
tinct enough  to  let  them  know  that  something  was 
going  on  in  the  outer  world.  The  window  was  again 
opened,  but  the  stars  refused  to  shine,  and  the  sky  pre- 
sented the  same  inky  appearance  as  before. 

"  That  'ere  music's  some  serenading  party,  I  reckon," 
said  the  rustic  astronomer,  and  again  he  sought  his 
restless  companion.  They  talked  and  tossed  about  for 
a  brace  of  hours  longer,  when  suddenly  the  door  was 
opened  by  the  colored  chambermaid,  with  broom  and 
bucket  in  her  hand.  A  cheerful  stream  of  light  entered 
the  gloomy  apartment,  and  the  countrymen  simultane- 
ously exclaimed  : 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST, 


135 


By  jingo !  there's  daylight ! 
They  then  asked  the  woman  if  it  was  not  about  time 
for  the  procession  to  begin  ? 

Lor'  a  marcy,  it's  over  long  ago,"  was  the  un- 
pleasant intelligence  communicated. 

"That's  a  consarned  humbug!  "  roared  one.  "I  looked 
out  o'  the  window  'twixt  sleeps  without  seeing  a  bit  o' 
daylight.  What  the  deuce  do  you  keep  your  shutters 
shut  for  ?  " 

The  woman  explained  to  them  that  they  had  been 
looking  into  the  cabinet,  and  demonstrated  that  there 
were  no  windows  to  the  room.  They  reluctantly  paid 
their  bill,  and  returned  home  without  seeing  the  show. 

The  following  lines,  by  one  of  our  home  bards,  were 
scattered  among  the  people  on  this  occasion.  I  pub- 
lish them  again  as  a  relic  of  the  past : 

A  KALLY  OF  THE  PATRIOTS. 

Tune—"  Hi!  for  Boh  and  Joan'' 

Join  in  the  merry  strain,  sound  the  fife  and  drum,  sirs  ; 
Shout  aloud  again,  the  glorious  day  has  come,  sirs. 
Many  years  ago  our  country's  sages 
Wrote  down  something  new  on  history's  golden  pages. 

Chorus — Join  the  merry  strain,  &c. 

Johnny  Ball  on  fire  at  our  disobedience, 
Came  wrapt  in  his  ire  to  force  us  to  allegiance; 
To  our  arms  we  flew,  glory  was  our  guide,  sirs; 
Well  each  soldier  knew  he'd  justice  on  his  side,  sirs. 

Empires  on  us  gazed,  filfd  with  admiration; 
**Lo!"  cried  they,  amazed,  "  lo,  a  new-born  nation  1 
Freedom's  altar  burns,  see  her  starry  banner ; 
Gallantly  she  spurns  slavery  and  dishonor  1 " 

Fill  your  glasses  up,  men  of  every  station, 
Pledge  the  brimming  cup  to  our  happy  nation. 
Tradesmen,  leave  your  shops,  'tis  no  lime  for  business; 
Farmers,  leave  your  crops  for  a  little  dizziness. 

Tailors,  leave  your  boards,  our  board  entices ; 
Blacksmiths,  leave  yonr  forge,  'tis  no  time  for  vices; 
Doctors,  tarry  here,  now  there  are  but  few  sick; 
Teachers,  come  and  hear  our  patriotic  music. 


136 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


Lawyers,  look  not  dull ;  put  your  fees  in  pocket, 
Freedom  'oersus  Bull  's  the  greatest  ease  on  docket; 
Printers,  leave  your  case^  we're  types  of  your  profession : 
Should  Bull  again  oppress,  we*ll  make  a  new  impression. 

Join  the  rushing  crowd,  raise  the  cheering  sound,  sirs; 
For  an  iron  road,  our  Carroll  breaks  the  ground,  sirs. 
Lo !  amid  the  throng,  tradesmen,  statesmen,  sages, 
Push  the  work  along,  the  pride  of  coming  ages. 

The  Battle  of  Vinegar  Hill. 

The  battle  of  Yinegar  Hill  may  be  remembered  by 
some  of  my  readers.  It  was  an  event  in  which  several 
of  our  volunteer  companies  figured  ;  and,  though  they 
came  off  victorious,  yet  there  was  not  a  returned  soldier 
who  could  display  a  scratch  to  boast  of.  It  took  place 
on  the  line  of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Eailroad,  either 
in  1833  or  '34,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Eelay  House, 
on  a  spot  known  as  Vinegar  Hill,  which  was  sprinkled 
over  with  shanties  and  huts  occupied  by  Irish  laborers 
on  the  road.  A  very  troublesome  dispute  had  arisen 
among  these  laborers,  whether  religious  or  political  I 
will  not  pretend  to  say ;  but  so  severely  did  the  contest 
rage  at  one  time,  that  several  murders  were  committed  ; 
and,  when  the  conservators  of  the  law  attempted  to 
serve  warrants  on  the  suspected  parties,  they  met  with 
overpowering  resistance.  Besides,  the  work  on  the 
road  was  partially  abandoned  by  the  rioters,  whom  all 
the  authority  of  the  officers  could  not  bring  under  con- 
trol. A  call  was  therefore  made  upon  the  military  of 
the  city  and  county  to  aid  the  sheriff  in  making  his 
arrests.  There  appeared  to  be  two  ringleaders  who 
controlled  the  actions  of  the  rioters,  both  of  them 
powerful  and  daring  men,  by  the  names  of  Eeilley  and 
Coyle.  They  had,  through  the  aid  of  their  companions, 
avoided  the  vigilance  of  the  agents  of  the  law,  and  even 
defied  them. 

JSTot  being  cognisant  of  the  operations  of  the  other 
companies,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  the  Marion  Eifle 
Corps,  who  signalized  themselves  by  —  capturing 
Eeilley. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


137 


It  was  a  dark,  drizzly  night  when  I  was  ordered  to 
push  my  command  into  the  very  heart  of  the  enemy's 
stronghold,  arrest  all  suspicious  characters,  and  seize 
all  weapons  of  warfare  that  could  be  found,  either  in 
the  hands  of  the  people  or  concealed  in  their  shanties. 
We  found  everything  quiet  in  the  settlement,  except  the 
occasional  cry  of  a  baby  or  the  bark  of  a  half  starved 
cur.  All  questions  were  answered  respectfully;  inno- 
cence beamed  in  every  countenance,  and  in  all  proba- 
bility there  were  never  before  congregated  together 
such  a  number  of  pure  and  spotless  saints  as  these 
blarneying  children  of  Erin.  They  knew  nothing  of 
riot  or  murder,  lived  peaceable  and  quiet  lives,  and 
were,  withal,  great  respecters  of  the  law  and  admirers 
of  the  military,  who  greatly  honored  them  by  the  visit 
they  had  deigned  to  pay  them.  Some  muskets  and 
pistols,  with  a  large  amount  of  shillelahs,  were  collected, 
however,  among  these  innocent  and  unsophisticated 
people. 

While  on  our  dreary  march  through  mud  and  mire, 
we  were  joined  by  a  tall,  square-shouldered  Irishman, 
who  begged  to  be  allowed  to  march  under  our  protec- 
tion, as  he  was  alone  and  dreaded  his  'Mnimies.''  He 
was  a  pleasant  fellow,  told  many  jokes  about  the  Far- 
down  and  Corkonian  boys,  and  sung  several  of  the 
ballads  of  Green  Erin  with  touching  effect.  Besides 
these  accomplishments,  he  cheered  us  on  our  march 
with  tunes  on  a  fife,  an  instrument  he  handled  with  con- 
summate skill. 

''It's  the  music  of  this  little  pipe  that  will  make 
your  boys  move  their  pins,  Captain,"  said  he,  with  a 
sweet  brogue.  "It  helped  the  sojer-boys  along  at  the 
battle  of  Waterloo,  and  the  Mounseers  scampered  like 
skeered  rabbits  when  they  heard  it  whistle  out  Paddy 
O'Eafferty." 

At  length  he  proposed  to  act  as  guide,  and  put  us  in 
the  right  way  to  capture  Reilley,  who,  he  said,  was  a 
big  scamp,  and  richly  deserved  hanging  for  his  many 
sins. 

Arrived  at  a  store  where  they  sold  whiskey  and  to- 


138 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


bacco,  and  which  was  dignified  with  the  name  of  gro- 
cery, we  encountered  a  large  body  of  extremely  peace- 
able laborers,  who  were  innocently  enjoying  themselves 
over  "a  little  of  the  crather."  Oar  genial  fifer,  it  was 
remarked,  kept  himself  from  the  light,  and  would  not 
enter  the  store  with  the  rest. 

"  I  heard  your  fifer  playing  some  of  the  tunes  of  old 
Ireland,  Captain,"  said  an  Irishman,  stepping  up  to  me 
with  a  military  salute;  "and  it's  a  pleasant  thing  to 
hear  the  airs  of  one's  home  while  one's  in  a  furrin 
land." 

And  then  he  whispered  into  my  ear : — "  Kape  both 
yer  eyes  open,  my  mon.  That  fife  sounded  like  the  one 
we  have  often  heard;  there's  no  feller  in  these  parts 
that  can  blow  it  like  Reilley  ;  and  he's  the  boy  that  can 
breathe  his  soul  intil  an  Irish  tune." 

When  this  intelligence  was  communicated  to  the 
members  of  the  company,  every  one  was  for  arresting 
the  fifer  at  once  ;  but,  on  reflection,  it  was  thought  best 
not  to  molest  him  until  he  had  got  himself  into  a  trap, 
as  he  might  have  friends  and  backers  in  the  crowd  who 
would  attempt  a  rescue,  and  thereby  cause  bloodshed. 
Accordingly,  the  company  took  up  the  line  of  march 
towards  the  Washington  turnpike,  managing  to  keep 
the  fifer  in  the  centre,  in  order,  as  he  was  told,  to  guard 
him  from  the  Reilley  party,  who  were  in  search  of  him. 

As  we  approached  the  road,  we  found  that  the  fellow 
became  very  restless,  and  looked  around  him  as  if  he 
were  in  search  of  some  object.  After  awhile  he  took 
out  his  fife  and  blew  a  loud  cadence,  which  was  quickly 
answered  by  a  whoop,  and  then  he  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  break  through  the  ranks,  but  was  quickly 
seized  and  secured.  It  was  Reilley  himself!  the  prin- 
cipal leader  of  the  rioters.  He  was  brought  to  the 
city,  and  in  the  morning  handed  over  to  the  tender 
mercy  of  the  officers  of  the  law.  With  the  arrest  of 
the  second  in  command,  Coyle,  the  troubles  on  the  line 
of  the  railroad  ended,  and  the  construction  of  the  work 
proceeded  as  usual. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


139 


A  Burlesque  Parade. 

In  1837  the  "law-parade"  of  the  Thirty-ninth  Regi- 
ment Maryland  Militia  brought  out  a  fantastical  dis- 
play,  which  put  everything  of  the  kind,  before  or  since, 
in  the  shade.  The  Major  commanding  looked  -ugly 
enoug-h  to  frighten  a  host— ^M^eal  meat-axe,  wolhsh 
about  the  shoulders,  and  head  all  hearr  The  army  con- 
sisted of  a  tattooed  tribe  of  Indians,  and  the  musicians 
sported  the  most  splendid  noses  that  could  be  produced 
through  the  agency  of  pasteboard  and  paint.  They 
appeared  to  belong  to  the  artillery  arm  of  defence,  for 
they  dragged  along  an  infernal  machine  upon  wheels,  m 
the  shape  of  a  steamboat  smoke-stack.  This  species  of 
parade  was,  of  course,  intended  to  ridicule  the  militia 
system,  which  then  prevailed,  and  will  always  continue 
unpopular  as  long  as  we  have  no  need  for  fighting  men. 
Well  organized  companies,  drilled  by  experienced 
masters,  and  uniformed  with  taste,  are  always  an  orna- 
ment to  a  community,  and  a  safeguard  to  the  lives  and 
property  of  citizens. 

In  1837  a  body  of  young  men  named  the  Baltimore 
Texan  Guards,"  left  this  city  to  participate  in  the 
struggle  of  Texas  for  her  liberty.  They  were  composed 
of  good  stulf.  When  they  left  the  city  they  were  es- 
corted by  Captain  Stewart's  Company  of  Washington 
Blues,  and  Captain  Watson's  Eagle  Artillerists. 

TU  City  Guards.— The  Baltimore  City  Guards,  as 
fine  a  body  of  volunteer  militia  as  an  old  soldier  would 
like  to  gaze  upon,  was  organized  in  the  year  1832. 
Alexander  Cheves,  an  accomplished  lawyer  and  edu- 
cated soldier,  was  chosen  captain;  and  by  severe 
drilling  and  frequent  exercise,  he  brought  his  command 
to  a  high  state  of  perfection.  Cheves  served  as  captain 
until  the  year  1836,  when  he  resigned,  and  William  H. 
Watson  took  command.  Under  the  control  of  this 
noble  officer  the  company  continued  to  attract  atten- 
tion, by  the  neatness  of  their  grey  uniforms  and  the 
promptness  of  their  movements.  Watson  did  not 
retain  the  command  long,  as  he  took  charge  of  a  bat- 


140 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


talion  of  Baltimore  volunteers  for  tfee  Mexican  war, 
and  fell  gallantly  at  the  storming  of  Monterey.  The 
many  excellent  qualities  of  this  gentleman  will  be  re- 
membered by  those  who  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  his 
acquaintance.  On  the  resigning  of  Captain  Watson, 
James  H.  Millikin  was  elected  to  the  office,  and  cdn- 
tinued^in  command  until  1843.  While  under  the  com- 
mand of  Captain  Millikin,  a  dispute  arose  between  the 
Independent  Greys,  Captain  Law,  and  the  City  Guards, 
as  to  which  had  claim  to  the  right  of  the  Fifty-third 
Eegiment,  then  under  command  of  Lieutenant-colonel 
John  Spear  Nichols  and  Major  S.  O.  Hoffman.  Finally, 
after  much  bitter  contention,  the  post  of  honor  was 
given  the  Guards.  The  Fifty -third  was  a  new  and 
splendid  regiment,  and  was,  at  the  period  of  which  I 
now  write,  composed  of  the  City  Guards,  Captain  Mil- 
likin ;  the  Invincibles,  Captain  J.  M.  Anderson  ;  the 
Independent  Greys,  Captain  J.  O.  Law  ;  the  Maryland 
Cadets,  Captain  Newman  ;  the  Lafayette  Guards,  Cap- 
tain Laloup,  and  the  National  Guards,  Captain  Pickell. 
Subsequently  the  City  Guards  came  under  the  com- 
mand of  Captain  Salmon,  and  in  1847  changed  their 
uniform.  The  organization  ceased  under  Captain 
Warner. 

Military  spirit  active. —  At  about  this  period  the  mili- 
tary spirit  took  a  sudden  rise.  A  fine  company  called 
the  Eutaw  Light  Infantry,  was  formed  in  the  western 
section  of  the  city.  The  ranks  were  well  filled,  and 
their  parades  elicited  much  encomium.  They  were 
commanded  by  Captain  Charles  M.  Keyser,  a  noble 
officer  and  accomplished  tactician.  This  fine  company 
did  not  last  long. 

The  Maryland  Cadets  were  also  organized  about  the 
same  time.  Captain  Newman,  a  highly  esteemed  mer- 
chant, was  chosen  to  the  command.  The  uniform  con- 
sisted of  a  dark  blue,  long  dress-coat,  and  black  belt  and 
feather.  They  were  remarkable  for  the  ease  and 
promptness  of  their  movements,  both  in  marching  and 
the  manual.  Besides  a  fine  band  of  music  and  drum 
corps,  they  established  among  themselves  a  glee-club, 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  I'll 

composed  of  some  of  the  best  singers  in  the  city.  Cap- 
tain Newman  being  a  man  of  delicate  health,  was  com- 
pelled to  go  abroad  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening 
his  constitution.  During  his  absence,  First  Lieutenant 
Archer  Eopes  took  command.  Intelligence  was  receu'ed 
that  their  much  loved  commander  would  arrive  in  Bos- 
ton at  a  certain  period.  The  company  at  once  resolved 
to  make  a  trip  to  the  «  Hub,"  receive  their  captain,  and 
escort  him  back  to  his  home  in  Baltimore,  ihe  trip 
was  arranged,  and  proved  one  continued  series  ot  ova- 
tions, as  they  passed  through  the  various  cities  and 
towns,  until  they  reached  the  objective  point  where  they 
were  to  meet  their  commander.  They  did  not  meet 
him  ;  he  had  died  on  the  return  voyage,  and  was  buried 
beneath  the  waves  of  the  ocean. 

The  German  Yagers  were  organized  in  1812,  and  lougtit 
at  the  battle  of  North  Point  under  Captain  Sadtler.  At 
the  close  of  the  war  in  1814,  the  company  disbanded. 
On  the  22d  of  February,  1837,  some  of  the  old  menibers 
met,  and,  with  the  aid  of  new  recruits,  reorganized  the 
company,  electing  G.  W.  Lurman  captain,  who  served 
for  about  three  years,  when  Captain  Frederick  was 
chosen  to  the  command.  In  1842  Frederick  Blterman 
was  promoted  to  the  command,  and  the  company  pa- 
raded with  well-filled  ranks,  and  a  fine  military  band, 
under  the  elder  Volandt.  Fritz  Kummer,  the  popular 
and  well-known  bugler,  was  a  member  of  this  band. 
One  of  the  popular  refrains  of  the  day  was  :— 

"When  you  bear  the  fife  and  drum, 
Then  you  know  the  Yagers  come ; 
And  when  you  hear  Fritz  blow  his  horn, 
Why— then  you  know  the  Yagers  run ! 

A  very  attractive  feature  in  Volandt's  band  was  the 
presence  of  two  girls,  who  wore  uniforms  and  tooted  on 
brass  instruments  in  true  manly  style.  The  boys,  how- 
ever, soon  smoked  them  out.  In  1848  <^aptain  Jlilter- 
man  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  Major  of  the  &^5d 
Kegiment,  and  Lieutenant  A.  C.  Pracht  took  the  com- 
mand.   The  next  captain  was  Andrew  Kauter,  who  was 


142 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


succeeded  by  Philip  Trayser,  under  whose  charge  the 
company  ceased  to  parade.  The  Yagers  participated 
in  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the  North  Point 
monument  in  1839,  a  still-born  memorial,  for  even  the 
stone  and  the  reliques  which  it  covered  are  non  est^  some 
delving  antiquarian  or  forest-robber  having  appropriated 
both. 

The  Marion  Rifle  Corps.  The  most  brilliant,  if  not 
the  most  ancient  Company  of  the  First  Eifle  Eegiment, 
was  the  Marion  Eifle  Corps,  organized  in  the  year 
1823,  immediately  before  the  grand  military  parade  in 
honor  of  the  visit  of  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette  to  this 
city.  The  senior  company  of  the  regiment  was  the 
Sharpshooters,  who  had  signalized  themselves  at  the 
battle  of  North  Point.  The  Morgan  Eiflemen,  with  a 
black  uniform,  made  their  first  parade  about  the  same 
time  with  the  Marions. 

The  published  constitution  of  the  Marions,  which  is 
now  before  me  (having  been  furnished  by  my  excellent 
friend,  Mr.  Jacob  Bradenbaugh,  secretary),  bears  date 
of  1831,  and  is  signed  by  the  members  of  that  period. 
When  the  company  was  organized,  Benjamin  I.  Cohen 
was  unanimously  elected  captain,  and  accepted  the 
command  ;  but  the  Adjutant-general  refused  to  issue  his 
commission,  on  account  of  constitutional  restrictions, 
Mr.  Cohen  being  an  Israelite.  This  decision  of  the 
military  department  of  the  State  Government  created 
a  great  sensation  at  the  time,  and  Mr.  Cohen  gave  way 
in  favor  of  Joseph  Branson,  who  was  chosen  to  the 
command  by  the  members.  Mr.  Cohen  and  his  friends, 
however,  did  not  allow  the  affair  to  rest ;  they,  by 
their  power,  in  the  course  of  time,  brought  about  the 
celebrated  Jewish  Emancipation  Act,"  which  placed 
Maryland  foremost  among  the  States  in  putting  down 
intolerance,  by  giving  the  Israelite  equal  privilege  with 
the  Christian.  Mr.  Cohen  always  considered  himself 
the  father  of  the  corps,  and  on  many  occasions  gave 
public  evidence  of  his  friendly  feeling.  Capt.  Branson 
was  known  to  many  persons  of  the  present  day  as  a 
whole-souled,  good-natured  member  of  society.  Though 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST.  1^3 

not  a  strict  disciplinarian,  he  was  a  prompt  and  ener- 
P-etic  soldier,  and  quite  proud  of  his  command,  it  is 
said  that  while  leading  the  corps  on  a  general  parade, 
and  as  the  column  moved  majestically  along  Baltimore 
street,  he  went  from  platoon  to  platoon  and  said: 
*^  Men,  show  yourselves  off.  Don't  you  see  that  the 
ladies  are  looking  at  you  ?  "  .  x 

On  the  resignation  of  Capt.  Branson,  which  took 
place  some  years  after  the  organization  of  the  corps, 
Wm.  G.  Cook  was  chosen  to  the  command,  la  Ibd^ 
the  muster-roll  stood  as  follows : 

Wm.  G.  Cook,  Captain  ;  J.  B.  Wright,  first  Lieutenant ; 
Henry  Starr,  Jr.,  second  ;  Samuel  Dallam,  third. 

Rank  and  i^iZ^.— Washington  S.  Cook,  Jesse  W.  Lee, 
E  F  Lupton,  Wm.  Hanna,  J.  W.  Hagger,  James  Key- 
ser,  Goddard  Eaborg,  G.  W,  McCabe,  John  F.  Eeese, 
Thos  O  Sollers,  Geo.  W.  McDaniel,  John  Cleland,  Asa 
Holmes,  G.  L.  Ay  res,  P.  W.  Toy,  Thomas  Carroll,  Jr., 
Sam'l  H.  Gover,  Alex.  Hanna,  Thos.  H.  Cooper,  John 
N.  Millington,  John  Dobbin,  John  Bruner,  Wm.  H. 
Fowble,  S.  Foley,  J.  J.  Eeinicker,  D.  Monserat,  J. 
France  Wm.  A.  Everson,  G.  W.  Nicholson,  B.  H.  Cook, 
F   S.  Walter,  J.  O'l^eill,  Geo.  G.  Presbury,  Jr.,  James 
M  Anderson,  Wm.  Perkins,  Geo.  H.  Sanderson,  Edward 
Grieves,  William  P.  Pouder,  Wm.  H.  McLaughlin, 
Allen  Elder,  Eobt  C.  Hasson,  Jos.  S.  Pratt,  John  E. 
Simpson,  Grafton  D.  Spurrier,  Ed.  J.  Walsh,  T.  W.  Jay, 
Francis  G.  McGinnis,  A.  J.  Hanna,  F.  S.  Stouffer,  Wm. 
Eidgaway,  Jr.,  Dorsey  B.  Baldwin,  Hippohte  G.  Du- 
catel,  James  McConky,  Ed.  P.  Starr,  James  H.  Norris, 
Wm.  T.  Caldwell,  W.  H.  Eobinson,  Wm.  B.  Cram, 
Daniel  F.  Griffith,  John  H.  Hewitt,  John  Hammer, 
James  Carrear,  W.  G.  Hagger,  Joseph  T  Barron,  C. 
Jenkins,  John  J.  Eowles,  G.  W.  Hynson,  W.  H.  Kairie, 
J  Bradenbaugh,  Geo.  W.  Goforth,  W.  M.  Oldham,  F. 
A.  Faulac,  Eobert  Baker,  Henry  Cline,  Basil  Wagner, 
Wm  H.  Eoss,  George  C.  Frailey,  Eeuben  C.  Stansbury, 
J  H.  Bayford,  T.  F.  Boothby,  Jacob  F.  Grove,  I.  T.  Stod- 
dard, Wm.  Boothby,  Jr.,  George  W.  Webb,  G  F  Heuisler, 
Wm.  H.  Peters,  James  Getty,  E.  J.  Huzza,  W.  H.  M.Hay- 


144 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


ward,  James  Shedd,  Geo.  W.  May,  Geo.  Barkman,  Wm. 
F.  Colston,  J.  W.  Walmsley,  Frederick  Parks,  Geo.  W. 
Woodward,  Joseph  Tevis,  Samuel  Keek,  S.  C.  Hoffman, 
E.  Gerhard t,  Owen  Roberts,  Ed.  J.  Alcock,  Henry 
Story,  Fred.  Kriel,  W.  Heuisler,  J.  W.  Durst,  Joshua 
Harvey,  Henry  Bldred,  Wm.  Warren,  Wm.  Ford,  John 
W.  ISTiles,  Sam'L  S.  Addison,  William  Addison,  William 
P.  Sturgeon,  Samuel  Lucas. 

It  will  be  seen  by  the  foregoing  list  that  the  Marion 
Corps  furnished  officers  for  many  of  the  other  compa- 
nies, and  also  field-officers  for  various  brigades. 

The  following  lines  were  written  under  the  muster- 
roll  of  the  Marions  by  the  company's  secretary,  Jacob 
Bradenbaugh,  in  1866.  The  rejoinder  was  written  in 
pencil  by  the  surviving  Captain  in  1873  : — 

1866. 

We  are  scattered,  we  are  scattered, 

Though  a  jolly  band  were  we ; 
Some  sleep  beneath  the  grave-sod, 

And  some  are  o'er  the  sea. 
And  Time  has  wrought  his  changes 

On  the  few  who  yet  remain; 
The  joyous  band  that  once  we  were, 

We  cannot  be  again.  B. 

1873. 

We  are  scattered,  we  are  scattered. 

Yet  a  corporal's  guard  is  left; 
Some  with  their  hair  as  white  as  snow, 

And  some  of  teeth  bereft. 
For  God,  in  His  great  mercy, 

Has  passed  their  folHes  by. 
And  let  them  live  so  many  years, 

To  teach  them  how  to  die.  H. 

In  the  year  1875  a  call  was  made  for  a  meeting  of  the 
survivors  of  the  Marion  Eiflle  Corps.  A  few  responded 
to  the  call ;  they  were  all  men  advanced  in  life,  but  still 
active  and  vigorous.  They  met  at  the  old  Military 
Hall,"  which  was  formerly  their  headquarters  ;  it  now 
bears  the  name  of  the  "  Eose  House,"  and  is  located  on 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


N.  Gay  Street,  Though  this  meeting  was  an  informal 
one,  yet  there  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  the  affairs 
of  the  past,  and  it  was  agreed  that  another  attempt 
should  be  made  to  gather  together  the  broken  frag- 
ments of  bygone  days. 

The  surviving  members  are,  at  the  present  writing : 
Captain  John  H.  Hewitt ;  Lieutenants  Ed.  G.  Starr, 
James  M.  Anderson,  and  Goddard  Eaborg;  Sergeants 
W.  H.  Robinson,  G.  D.  Spurrier,  and  G.  JP.  Heuisler; 
Corporals  Geo.  W.  Webb  and  W.  H.  H.  Hay  ward ;  and 
privates  Thos.  O.  Sollers,  F.  G,  McGinnis,  Jacob  Braden- 
baugh,  Jesse  Cline,  Jacob  F.  Grove,  I.  T.  Stoddard, 
James  Getty,  Samuel  S.  Addison,  William  Addison,  and 
James  Taylor. 

Edward  J.  Alcoek,  whose  name  appears  on  the  muster- 
roll,  was  surgeon  of  the  corps,  and  was  shot  by  George 
Stuart.  His  remains  were  escorted  to  the  grave  by  the 
Marions  and  Old  Town  Light  Infantry. 

Besides  being  conspicuous  in  the  "  battle  of  Vinegar 
Hill,"  the  Marions  aided  in  suppressing  the  riot  on  the 
Washington  Branch  road,  near  the  Savage  Factory ; 
also  the  Carmelite  Nunnery  riot  on  Aisquith  street,  and 
the  great  Bank  riot ;  but  on  the  latter  occasion  they 
did  not  appear  in  uniform,  but  joined  the  Ward  guards. 

A  General  Turn  Out. 

On  the  12th  of  September,  1839,  there  was  a  general 
turn  out  of  the  military,  who,  with  the  exception  of  the 
cavalry,  were  transported  to  the  ground  near  the 
newly  established  pavilion,  North  Point,  built  by  the 
well-known  Jacob  Houck,  whose  panacea  met  with  a 
world-wide,  but  transient,  fame.  A  number  of  com- 
panies from  a  distance  were  invited  to  participate  in 
the  great  display,  commemorative  of  the  event  which 
made  the  spot  classic  ground.  The  arrangements  for 
the  accommodation  of  thousands  of  visitors  were  on  a 
gigantic  scale.  Steamers  were  decorated,  and  received 
their  cargoes  of  human  beings  at  a  reasonable  freight 
charge.  Vehicles  of  all  kinds  bore  their  legions  over- 
7 


146 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


land,  and  many  footed  it  all  the  way.  Orators,  poets, 
and  vocalists  were  snmnaoned  to  aid  in  the  great  "ova- 
tion. The  entire  Light  Brigade  brushed  up  their  armor, 
and,  with  martial  sounds,  pressed  the  sacred  soil  with 
their  heavy  feet.  The  day  was  balmy,  the  sun  shone 
brightly,  and  the  bosom  of  the  river  became  a  mirror, 
reflecting  the  waving  banners  and  nodding  plumes. 
The  forest  elfins,  anticipating  a  repetition  of  the  con- 
flict of  1814,  hid  themselves  in  the  hollow  trees  and 
rocky  nooks;  for  all  poets  agree  that  sylvan  sprites 
prefer  solitude  to  noise  and  confusion.  The  foundation 
stone  of  the  monument  commemorative  of  the  deeds  of 
those  who  fought  and  died  in  defence  of  the  city,  was 
placed,  amid  great  ceremony.  The  oration  was  pro- 
nounced, the  cheers  of  the  multitude  echoed  through 
the  forest,  the  spirit-stirring  drum  rolled,  and  salvo  after 
salvo  of  the  artillery  made  the  hills  quake;  but  then 
there  was  nothing  to  eat!  and  the  market  price  of 
water  was  a  a  glass!  Houck's  pavilion  ran  dry,  as 
well  as  the  canteens  of  the  rank  and  file.  The  committee 
of  arrangements  had  made  no  provision  for  the  visiting 
companies,  who  wandered  about  with  woefully  long 
faces  and  empty  stomachs.  The  Washington  Light  In- 
fantry, particularly,  "  swore  like  our  troops  in  Flanders," 
and  wondered  what  kind  of  stuff"  Baltimore  hospitality 
was  made  of.  In  order  to  make  matters  worse,  the 
steamboats,  which  were  waiting  to  receive  their  return 
freight,  had  forgotten  to  take  soundings,  and  found  that 
the  tide  had  ebbed  and  left  them  sticking  fast  in  the 
mud.  The  tide,  however,  changed  toward  midnight, 
and  the  overloaded  boats  reached  the  city  with  great 
difficulty.  Every  person  was  glad  to  get  home,  after 
having  passed  a  day  of  unalloyed  misery. 

The  Bank  Blot. 

Some  years  after  the  war  of  1812,  Baltimore  bore  the 
name  of  Mob  Town  ";  but  the  honors  belonging  to  that 
title  gradually  left  her,  and  fell  upon  the  brow  of  the  "City 
of  Brotherly  Love,"  where  riots  of  a  most  violent  char- 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  147 

acter  disturbed  the  public  peace  for  full  a  decade.  The 
great  Bank  riot  was  a  splendidly  gotten-up  affair,  and 
cost  no  small  effusion  of  human  blood  ere  it  was  sup- 

^""Se  daims  against  the  old  Bank  of  Maryland  were 
dishonored,  and  much  distress  was  caused  among  the 
poorer  class  of  people,  who,  having  great  «onfadence  in 
that  institution,  had  chosen  it  as  a  safe  place  to  deposit 
their  hard  earnings.    The  bank  closed  its  doors,  and 
between  two  days  removed  all  the  specie  in  its  vaults. 
The  directors  announced  that  its  business  would  be 
wound  up  by  two  prominent  lawyers,  Eeverdy  Johnson 
and  John  Glenn.    The  depositors  became  enraged  and 
swore  vengeance  against  all  the  banks    Masses  ot  ex- 
cited people  of  both  sexes  collected  before  the  closed 
bank,den!.anding  their  nioney ;  but  they  were  only  re- 
pulsed by  the  police,  and  compelled  to  return  to  their 
homes  and  mourn  their  loss.  t-^oiw 
The  rioters  organized  themselves  systematically. 
Nocturnal  meetings  were  held,  resolutions  passed,  and 
so  perfect  was  their  detail  that  even  the  authority  ot 
the  Mayor,  Jesse  Hunt,  backed  by  his  Police,  was  held 
at  naught.    The  Bank  of  Maryland  and  other  banks 
were  assailed  and  fired  ;  the  dwellings  of  Messrs.  John- 
son and  Glenn  were  torn  to  mere  shells,  their  furniture 
and  valuable  libraries  given  to  the  flames,  and  their 
families  compelled  to  flee  to  the  country  for  safety.   ^  or 
did  the  fury  of  the  mob  exhaust  itself  on  the  banks  and 
the  mansions  of  the  two  obnoxious  counsellors  ;  many 
prominent  citizens  who  had  incurred  the  popular  dis- 
pleasure, were  hunted  down  like  wild  beasts  and  com- 
pelled to  flee  for  safety.  .  \.^r.r.C. 

The  Mayor  abdicated,  and  left  the  city  in  the  charge 
of  Henry  S.  Sanderson,  the  Sheriff,  who,  finding  his 
situation  rather  uncomfortable,  left  in  favor  of  Judge 
Brice,  who  doubted  whether  he  had  a  right  ^  take  con- 
trol of  affairs.  Finally,  Gen.  Benjamin  C.  Howard  was 
called  upon  to  take  command,  thus  establishing  military 
rule.  The  Light  Division  was  ordered  out  by  the  iron- 
eral,  and  patrols  established  in  various  parts  of  the  city. 


148 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


The  call  for  military  aid  to  preserve  law  and  order  was 
sluggishly  answered.  The  companies  were  mere  skele- 
tons, for  the  popularity  of  the  mob  held  them  in  awe. 
Arming  the  citizens  with  "rolling-pins"  had  been  tried 
by  Mayor  Hunt,  without  eifect  upon  the  mobbites ;  so 
there  was  no  alternative  but  the  military  force. 

I  happened  to  be  Adjutant  of  the  Eifle  Eegiment  at 
the  time,  and,  having  received  orders  from  Gen.  Med- 
tart,  I  donned  my  uniform  and  went  abroad,  with  the 
intention  of  notifying  the  several  captains  of  companies. 
I  had  not  proceeded  far  on  my  mission  when  I  was  as- 
sailed by  showers  of  bricks  and  stones,  and  compelled 
to  made  an  inglorious  retreat  towards  my  home.  Cap- 
tain James  M.  Anderson*  also  appeared  in  full  uniform, 
was  assailed  in  a  like  manner,  but  attempted  to  resist 
the  mob,  and  was  severely  handled. 

The  companies,  with  but  few  exceptions,  refused  to 
do  duty.  A  council  of  officers  was  held  at  Barnum's 
Hotel,  and  the  conclusion  come  to  was,  that  it  was  the 
safest  policy  to  organize  the  citizens  by  ward's,  as 
armed  police ;  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  under  Captain 
Joseph  Willey,  having  already  volunteered  their  ser- 
vices to  scour  the  city  and  disperse  all  riotous  gather- 
ings. The  Sixth  Ward  Guards  fell  under  my  com- 
mand. Some  2000  were  supplied  with  arms  from  the 
State  Armory,  and  the  headquarters  were  established 
in  Monument  Square. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  disaffected  portion  of  the  in- 
habitants gathered  strength  and  confidence,  for  the 
city  was  given  up  to  plunder;  and  there  is  always,  in 
large  communities,  a  class  of  roughs  who  are  ready  at 
any  moment  to  join  in  an  outbreak,  particularly  when 
there  are  spoils  in  view.  This  element  of  the  popu- 
lation, of  course,  sided  with  the  aggressive  party,  and 
swelled  their  ranks  to  a  fearful  magnitude.  On  a  Sat- 
urday night,  and  during  all  the  following  Sabbath,  the 
city  was  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  mobbites.  The 
scene  in  front  of  the  residence  of  Reverdy  Johnson,  in 
Monument  Square,  was  truly  thrilling.    The  splendid 


•See  Append 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


149 


marble  portico  was  torn  down  and  split  into  fragments ; 
brick  after  brick  was  thrown  from  the  building,  and 
every  movement  systematically  executed  at  a  signal 
whistle  from  an  individual  who  was  distinguished  by 
the  title  of  ^*Eed  Jacket,"  and  whose  orders  were 
obeyed  with  great  promptness. 

A  fire  was  kindled  in  the  Square,  immediately  at  the 
base  of  the  Battle  Monument,  and  its  flames  were  fed 
by  the  valuable  library  of  the  distinguished  lawyer  and 
orator.  Pianos,  carpets,  bedding,  &c.,  were  heaped  on, 
and  the  figure  on  the  monument  seemed  to  blush  every 
time  a  new  volume  of  flames  rose  up  amid  the  darkness 
of  the  night.  This  disgraceful  scene  was  witnessed  by 
thousands  of  citizens ;  a  large  number  of  ladies  and 
children  swelling  the  crowd  of  spectators. 

Not  less  shameful,  and  still  more  appalling,  was  the 
drama  enacted  at  the  house  of  John  Glenn,  on  North 
Charles  street.  A  barricade  of  furniture  was  made 
across  the  street  by  the  mobbites,  at  the  corner  of 
Fayette  street,  in  order  to  prevent  the  cavalry  from  inter- 
fering. The  building  was  completely  gutted,  and  brick 
after  brick  taken  from  the  front.  The  mob  broke  open 
the  wine-cellar  of  Mr.  Glenn,  and  abstracted  therefrom 
a  large  amount  of  choice  old  liquors,  which  they  made 
oif  with,  spending  the  night  in  carousing  to  such  excess 
that  they  were  placed  liors  de  combat  the  next  morning, 
and  to  th\^  frolic  may  be  attributed  the  suppression  of 
the  disgraceful  outbreak. 

While  the  destruction  of  Glenn's  house  was  progress- 
ing amid  the  cheers  and  yells  of  the  excited  populace, 
the  cavalry  made  a  desperate  charge  down  Charles  street, 
upon  the. mass  of  men,  women  and  children.  A  wild 
shriek  rent  the  air  as  the  horsemen  plunged  toward 
Fayette  street,  with  their  sabres  flashing  on  either 
side.  Captain  Willey  led  them  on;  but  they  were 
brought  to  a  dead  halt  by  the  barricade  at  the  corner 
of  Charles  and  Fayette  street,  and  compelled  to  wheel 
and  retrace  their  steps,  amid  the  jeers  and  hoots  of  the 
multitude  and  a  volley  of  missiles.  The  brave  Willey 
did  not  turn  back,  but  driving  his  rowels  into  his 


150 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


horse's  flanks,  cleared  the  barrier  at  one  bound,  and 
escaped  several  pistol-shots  fired  at  him  from  Baltimore 
street. 

The  ill-success  of  the  cavalry  in  dispersing  the  mob 
caused  the  destruction  of  property  to  be  expedited ; 
and  the  good  cheer  of  the  wine-vaults  made  the  affair 
a  matter  of  jollification.  The  entire  destruction  of  the 
dwelling  was  in  contemplation,  when  a  company  of 
infantry,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Grafton  D. 
Spurrier,  silently  marched  up  Lexington  street  from 
Monument  Square.  They  were  resolute  and  deter- 
mined men,  and  their  leader  was  a  man  who  never  had 
a  particle  of  fear  in  him.*  They  wheeled  round  the 
corner  b}^  platoons,  and  then  halted.  For  a  moment  all 
was  silent,  save  the  crackling  of  the  burning  furniture. 
With  a  loud  voice,  Spurrier  ordered  all  good  citizens  to 
disperse  and  go  to  their  homes.  He  informed  them 
that  he  would  use  balled-cartridges,  and  fire  if  his  order 
was  not  obeyed.  A  loud  laugh  followed  this  harangue, 
and  the  fatal  order  was  given  to  the  first  platoon  to 
fire ;  which  they  did,  and  then  wheeling  to  the  right 
and  left,  the  second  platoon  advanced  and  delivered 
their  fire.  These  volleys  startled  the  mobbites,  and  their 
shouts  and  jeers  were  turned  into  wailing  and  lamen- 
tation, for  a  number  of  them  had  been  killed  and 
wounded,  as  the  pavements  the  next  morning  were 
slippery  with  blood.  The  desired  end  was  attained ; 
for  the  crowd,  seeing  that  Spurrier  was  in  earnest,  soon 
dispersed  in  every  direction,  and  what  remained  of  the 
property  was  put  under  guard  for  the  remainder  of  the 
night. 

During  the  whole  of  the  Sunday  following,  drunken 
characters  might  have  been  seen  staggering  through 
the  streets  or  sleeping  on  the  cellar-doors.  They  were 
generally  covered  with  mortar-dust,  and  displayed  un- 
mistakable signs  of  having  been  hard  at  work  during 
the  night  previous.  They  were  not  arrested,  for  the 
military  police  were  not  yet  strong  enough  ;  and  the 

*  Captain  Spurrier  afterwards  entered  tlie  Confederate  service,  and  became 
conspicuous  among  the  "  rebels,"  ranking  as  Colonel.  He  is  still  living,  and  like 
all  war-worn  veterans,  loves  to  talk  over  the  events  of  his  military  life. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  151 

crv  of  «  rally '  "  on  their  side  would  have  brought  strong 
parties  to  the  rescue,  and  thus  made  matters  worse 
^hQ  churches  were  closed,  and  timid  persons  kept 

within  doors.  ,  .  „,•_„„ 

In  the  meantime  the  ward  military  organizations 
were  preparing  for  the  night's  duty.  Strong  patrols 
were  ordered  o"ut  and  plactd  at  different  points  with 
established  lines  of  communication  with  the  mam  torce 
stationed  in  Monument  Square,  under  the  comniand  ot 
General  Sheppherd  0.  Leakin.  A  severe  skirmish 
took  place  it  -the  corner  of  Calvert  and  Baltimore 
streets,  and  another  near  the  Franklin  Bank  corner  of 
North  and  Baltimore  streets,  which  building  for  many 
years  showed  the  bullet-marks.  Several  were  killed 
and  wounded  in  these  engagements.  „  . 

I  had  a  strong  guard  at  the  corner  of  Fayette  and 
North  streets,  opposite  Backus's  Presbyterian  Church 
(where  the  United  States  Court  House  now  stands.) 
Horace  Pratt  (heretofore  mentioned  in  these  papers) 
was  a  corporal  of  this  guard.  About  midnight  a  rapid 
firino'  was  heard  in  that  direction,  and  with  a  large 
force  of  men  I  hastened  to  ascertain  the  cause,  i  found 
Horace  all  alone,  with  six  empty  muskets  placed  against 
the  wall  or  lying  on  the  pavement. 

Where  are  the  rest  of  the  guard  ?  I  asked. 
«  Why,  Captain,"  replied  he,  scratching  his  noddle, 
"I  hardly  know.  Some  of  them  went  round  to  Billy 
Rose's  to  see  if  they  couldn't  get  a  drink  ;  some  said 
they  were  sick,  and  Dutchy  swore  his  wife  would 
broom-stick  him  if  he  stayed  out  all  night.  I  made 
them  leave  their  muskets.  In  the  meanwhile  the  mob 
came  up  South  street;  and,  as  they  showed  signs  of 
an  attack  on  headquarters,  I  thought  I'd  et  em  have  a 
volley;  so  I  emptied  the  six  tubes.  You  11  find  a  fellow 
lying  comfortably  over  by  the  Franklin  Bank  and  two 
others  will  find  it  extremely  difficult  to  walk  home. 

Sure  enough,  the  body  of  a  man  was  found  near  the 
bank  with  a  bullet-hole  through  his  lungs.  He  was 
taken  to  Boyd's  cellar,  but  died  before  a  surgeon  could 
be  brought.  Horace  was  relieved  and  allowed  to  retire 
for  the  night. 


152 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


The  patrol  was  kept  on  duty  every  night  for  a  week. 
The  spirit  of  mobocracv  was  rampant  until  a  public 
meeting  was  called  in  the  rotunda  of  the  Exchange. 
Such  was  the  fear  of  prominent  men  of  being  "  spotted,'' 
that  the  call  was  but  slightly  responded  to.  The  few 
that  were  there  called  the  venerable  General  Smith  to 
the  chair.  Eesolutions  were  drawn  up  and  submitted, 
but  the  chairman  said  he  wanted  no  resolutions,  except 
the  resolution  of  men  determined  to  uphold  the  laws. 
He  called  for  the  United  States  flag,  which  was 
brought  to  him.  Seizing  the  staff,  he  uncovered  his 
head,  exposing  his  bald  poll  and  his  long  silvery  locks 
to  the  breeze,  ordering  those  who  loved  their  country 
and  their  city  to  follow  him.  Leaving  the  Exchange 
building,  he  walked  up  Gay  to  Baltimore  street,  followed 
by  the^eheering  crowd  and  canopied  by  the  stars  and 
stripes.  The  ranks  soon  swelled,  and  an  immense  body 
of  citizens  paraded  through  the  city.  From  that 
moment  mob  rule  fell  prostrate,  and  our  beautiful  city 
again  assumed  its  quiet  and  cheerfulness. 

It  was  never  known  how  many  were  killed  in  the 
riot  on  the  part  of  the  rioters  ;  or,  if  it  was,  it  was  kept 
from  the  public.  Some  estimated  the  casualties  at  36, 
others  as  high  as  50.  After  the  disturbance  was 
quelled,  and  the  laws  recovered  their  supremacy, 
several  schooners  and  sloops,  loaded  with  strangers, 
were  seen  to  leave  the  Patapsco  river  stealthily.  Henc 
it  was  conjectured  that  the  active  rioters  were  not 
entirely  residents  of  the  city. 

The  number  of  manuscript  pages  before  me  gives  me 
warning  ;  and  I  am  compelled,  reluctantly,  to  bring  my 
exhibition  of  the  "Shadows  on  the  WalP'  to  a  conclu- 
sion.  I  had  prepared  an  account  of  the  Convent  riot  in 
Aisquith  street,  the  military  expedition  to  PooPs  Island, 
and  the  bombardment  of  the  excursion  steamboats  by 
the  indignant  people  of  the  ancient  city  of  Annapolis; 
also  many  personal  sketches.  The  work  has  extended 
beyond  the  contemplated  limit,  and  I  am  obliged  to 
abandon  the  idea  of  giving  the  public  (every  reader  is, 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  153 

more  or  less,  a  critic)  a  chance  to  comment  on  my 
poetic  productions.  I  make  no  apology  for  the  ott- 
handed  manner  in  which  these  papers  have  been  scat- 
tered  to  the  winds ;  they  are  the  recollections  of  a  man 
in  the  winter  of  life,  and  submitted  to  his  old  and  new 
friends  for  the  purpose  of  giving  them  a  chance  ot 
ruminating  over  then  and  now,  the  past  and  the  present. 
We  are  all  travelling  the  same  road,  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave,  and  "  passing  away "  is  marked  upon  the 
brow  of  every  man,  woman  or  child  now  living. 
During  the  progress  of  this  work  (portions  of  whicb 
appeared  some  years  since  in  the  Sunday  Telegram,  and 
Baltimorean),  I  have  studiously  avoided  writing  any- 
thing  that  would  give  offence  to  the  living,  or  darken 
the  memory  of  the  dead.  There  are  people,  however, 
who  will  carp  at  the  utterance  of  truth. 


7* 


APPENDIX. 


Edgar  Allan  Poe. 

At  the  recent  unveiling  of  the  memorial  stone  placed 
over  the  remains  of  Mr.  Poe,  by  the  teachers  and 
pupils*  of  the  public  schools  of  Baltimore,  John  H.  B. 
Latrobe,  Esq.,  in  an  address  to  the  large  audience 
assembled  in  the  Western  Female  High  School,  made 
allusion  to  myself  and  my  connection  with  the  premium 
affair  of  the  Visitor  whioh  brought  the  neglected  poet 
before  the  world.  The  proprietors  of  the  journal 
alluded  to  offered  two  premiums;  one  of  $100  for  the 
best  storj^,  another  of  $50  for  the  best  poem.  I  was 
editor  of  the  paper  at  the  time.  The  committee  on  the 
awards  were  Mr.  Latrobe  (the  only  survivor),  Hon. 
John  P.  Kennedy,  the  well-remembered  author  of 
"Swallow  Barn and  "Horse-shoe  Eobinson,"  and 
statesman,  and  Dr.  James  H.  Miller.  These  gentlemen 
decided  that  Poe's  weird  tale  entitled  "A  Manuscript 
Found  in  a  Bottle  "  should  receive  the  first  premium. 
There  were  two  poems  selected  from  the  four-score 
offered,  as  worthy  of  the  second  award.  They  were 
"  The  Coliseum  "  by  Poe,  and  "  The  Song  of  the  Wind," 
by  myself.  The  judges  were  brought  to  a  stand,  but, 
after  some  debate,  agreed  that  the  latter  should  receive 
the  second  prize,  as  the  author  of  the  former  had 
already  received  the  first.  This  decision  did  not  please 
Poe,  hence  the  "little  unpleasantness"  between  us. 
Poe  received  his  money  with  many  thanks  ;  I  preferred 
a  silver  goblet,  which  is  now  in  my  family. 

I  make  this  note  to  gratify  the  curiosity,  I  may  call 
it  inquisitiveness,  of  many  persons  of  the  present  day, 
who  are  constantly  delving  for  some  new  fact  relating 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


to  the  departed  poet.    I  have,  over  and  over,  been  asked 
what  kind  of  a  man  he  was ;  whether  he  was  a  drun- 
kard or  opium-eater ;  if  he  was  a  roue ;  if  his  tempera- 
ment was  sanguine,  lymphatic,  bilious,  or  morbid.  In 
answer  to  all  these  questions,  I  say :  I  know  but  httle 
of  the  history  or  character  of  Edgar  A.  Poe ;  for,  though 
I  mingled  a  good  deal  with  the  literary,  musical,  and 
military  characters  of  former  times,  yet  I  never  could 
become  in  the  least  familiar  with  the  subject  of  this 
paper.    He  took  a  dislike  for  me,  from  the  fact  of  my 
having  penned  a  severe  criticism  on  his  poems  contained 
in  a  small  book  published  in  1829  by  Hatch  &  Dunning, 
booksellers,  Baltimore.    Poe  was  then  comparatively 
unknown  to  the  reading  community,  and  his  poetry  did 
not  suit  my  ideas  of  the  rhythmic  or  comprehensive. 
I  admired  the  richness  and  smoothness  of  Thomas 
Moore  and  the  grandeur  of  Byron ;  the  former,  in  my 
early  days,  I  endeavored  to  copy,  wedding  music  to  my 
verses ;  the  latter  was  my  idol.   Poe  was  not  like  either. 
What  kind  of  a  man  was  he?    I  answer,  handsome. 
A  broad  forehead,  a  large,  magnificent  eye,  dark  brown 
and  rather  curly  hair,  well  formed,  about  five  feet  seven 
in  height.    He  dressed  neatly  in  his  palmy  days— wore 
Byron  collars  and  a  black  neckerchief,  looking  the  poet 
all  over.    The  expression  of  his  face  was  thoughtful, 
melancholy,  and  rather  stern.    In  disposition  he  was 
somewhat  overbearing  and  spiteful.    He  often  vented 
his  spleen  on  poor  Dr.  Lofflin,  who  styled  himself  the 
Milford  Bard,"  and  who  outstripped  Poe  in  the  ciuan- 
tity  of  his  poetry,  if  not  the  quality. 

Did  he  drink  spirituous  liquors  or  eat  opium?  I  saw 
him  drunk  once,  or  perhaps  under  the  influence  of  a 
narcotic.  There  are  many  stories  about  his  being  found 
drunk  in  the  gutter.  They  are  all  hearsay ;  I  cannot 
endorse  them.  Was  he  a  libertine  ?  While  residing  in 
Eichmond,  I  heard  many  romantic  tales  of  his  amours. 
I  cannot  vouch  for  the  truth  or  falsity  of  these  traditions, 
for  the  whole  is  mere  gossip.  Let  the  dead  rest ;  it  is 
better  that  the  faults  of  Edgar  A.  Poe  should  be  buried 
with  the  bones  now  kept  in  the  bosom  of  their  mother 


166 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL} 


earth  by  the  chaste  memorial  stone  placed  over  them^  to 
brifi^hten  his  glory,  not  to  perpetuate  his  shame. 

What  was  his  temperament  ?  Undoubtedly  sanguine, 
yet  morbid.  Eemorse  brought  the  "  Eaven "  to  the 
bust  of  Pallas,  and  created  the  weird  forms  that  con- 
tinually flitted  through  his  fancy.  I  always  thought 
Poe  a  misanthrope,  cherishing  none  of  the  kindlier  feel- 
ings of  our  nature.  His  criticisms  were  bitter  in  the 
extreme.  So  freely  did  he  dispense  his  gall  that  it  was 
hard  to  induce  publishers  of  periodicals  to  publish  his 
essays. 

I  owe  my  readers  an  apology  for  detaining  them  so 
long  on  a  subject  which  has  almost  become  hackneyed. 
History  is  at  fault  as  to  the  life  of  Poe.  He  has  rested 
in  his  unhonored  grave  more  than  twenty-six  years, 
and  has  just  been  immortalized  by  a  chiselled  stone. 
While  living,  no  one  did  him  honor;  no  one  even  cared  to 
relieve  his  wants  ;  and  now  he  is  "  living,  though  dead." 

Much  curiosity  having  been  expressed  to  see  the 
poems  that  contested  for  the  prize,  I  have  been  induced 
to  drag  them  from  the  charnel-house  of  the  past.  The 
first  maybe  found  in  every  edition  of  Poe's  poems;  the 
second  in  the  only  edition  of  my  poetic  w^orks,  pub- 
lished by  N.  Hickman,  of  this  city,  about  thirty-five 
years  ago. 

THE  COLISEUM. 

By  Edgak  Allan  Fob. 

Type  of  antique  Rome !   Rich  reliquary 

Of  lofty  contemplation  left  to  Time 

By  buried  centuries  of  pomp  and  power! 

At  length-^at  length — after  so  many  days 

Of  weary  pilgrimage  and  burning  thirst, 

(Thirst  for  the  springs  of  lore  tliat  in  thee  lie,) 

I  kneel,  an  altered  and  an  humbled  man, 

Amid  the  shadows,  and  the  dank  within 

My  very  soul,  thy  grandeur,  gloom  and  glory! 

Vastness !  and  Age !  the  memories  of  Eld ! 
Silence  !  and  Desolation  !  and  dim  Night  I 
I  feel  ye  now — I  feel  ye  in  your  strength— 
O,  spells  more  sure  than  e*er  Judaean  King 
Taught  in  the  gardens  of  Gethsemane ! 


OK.  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


O,  charms  more  potent  than  the  rapt  Chaldee 

Ever  drew  down  from  out  the  quiet  stnrs ! 

Here,  where  a  hero  fell,  a  column  falls ! 

Here,  where  the  mimic  eagle  glared  in  gold, 

A  midnight  vigil  holds  the  swarthy  bat. 

Here,  where  the  dames  of  Rome  their  gilded  hair 

Waved  to  the  wind,  now  wave  the  reed  and  thistle. 

Here,  where  on  golden  throne  the  monarch  lolled, 

Glides,  spectre-like,  unto  his  marble  home, 

Lit  by  the  wan  light  of  the  horned  moon, 

The  swift  and  silent  lizard  of  the  stones. 

But  stay  !  these  walls— these  ivy-clad  arcades— 

These  mouldering  plinths— these  sad  and  blackened  shalts— 

These  vague  entablatures— this  crumbling  frieze— 

These  shattered  cornices— this  wreck— this  ruin— 

These  stones— alas!  these  grey  stones— are  they  all  

All  of  the  famed  and  the  colossal  left 
By  the  corrosive  Hours  of  Fate  and  me  ? 
"Not  all,"  the  Echoes  answer  me,— "  not  all. 
Prophetic  sounds  and  loud,  arise  forever 
From  us  and  from  all  ruin,  unto  the  wise. 
As  melody  from  Memnon  to  the  sun. 
We  rule  the  hearts  of  mightiest  men— we  rule 
With  a  despotic  sway  all  giant  minds. 
We  are  not  impotent— we  pallid  stones; 
Not  all  our  power  is  gone— not  all  our  fame- 
Not  all  the  magic  of  our  high  renown— 
Not  all  the  wonder  that  encircles  us — 
Not  all  the  mysteries  that  in  us  lie- 
Not  all  the  memories  that  hang  upon 
And  cling  around  about  us  as  a  garment, 
Clothing  us  in  a  robe  of  more  than  glory." 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  WIND. 
By  John  H.  Hewitt. 

Whence  come  ye  with  your  odor-laden  wings, 

Oh,  unseen  wanderer  of  the  summer  night? 
Why,  sportive,  kiss  my  lyre's  trembling  strings, 

Fashioning  wild  music,  which  the  light 
Of  listening  orbs  doth  seem  in  joy  to  drink  ? 

Ye  wanton  'round  my  form  and  fan  my  brow. 
While  I  hold  converse  with  the  stars  that  wink 

And  laugh  upon  the  mirror  stream  below. 

"  Oh,  I  have  come  fresh  from  the  soft,  sunny  climes. 
With  the  richest  incense  of  a  thousand  sweet  flowers 


158 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL^ 


I  have  frolicked  in  many  a  forest  of  limes, 

And  stolen  the  dewdrops  from  jessamine  bowers. 
I  have  kissed  the  white  crest  of  tiie  moon-silvered  wave, 

And  bosom'd  tiie  sail  of  the  light-skimming  barque ; 
I  have  sung  my  mad  dirge  o'er  the  sailor  boy's  grave, 

And  ftmn'd  up  the  blaze  of  the  meteor  spark. 
I  have  warbled  my  song  by  the  sea's  pebbly  shore. 

And  wandered  around  young  Andromeda's  form; 
I  have  played  with  the  surf  when  its  frolic  was  o'er, 

And  bellowed  aloud  with  the  shout  of  the  storm. 
I  have  wildly  career'd  through  the  shivering  shrouds. 

And  rent  the  broad  sail  of  the  corsair  in  twain ; 
I  have  screamed  at  the  burst  of  the  thunder -charged  clouds 

And  laughed  at  the  rage  of  the  petulant  main.  * 
But  erst,  and  I  left  on  an  ocean-girt  rock 

That  towered  alone  o'er  the  battering  wave, 
The  wreck  of  a  ship,  which  the  tempest's  wild  shock 

Had  borne,  with  her  wealth,  to  a  watery  grave. 
And  lonely  and  sad  o'er  her  quivering  form, 

The  last  of  her  bold  crew,  an  aged  man,  stood; 
He  heard  not  the  voice  of  the  loud-piping  storm. 

While  he  sorrowed  alone  in  his  wild  solitude. 
I  lifted  the  locks  from  his  time-stricken  brow, 

And  I  kissed  the  hot  tears  from  his  deep  furrow'd  cheek ; 
When  he  cried  out ^'My  comrades,  O,  where  are  they  now 

I  breathed  in  his  ear:— "To  tlie  billow  and  seek!" 
He  spoke  of  his  home,  of  his  own  cherished  ones. 

But  the  muttering  thunder  alone  made  reply; 
The  lightning  played  'round,  like  a  myriad  of  suns. 

And  the  waves  vaulted  up  to  the  dark,  leaden  sky. 
O,  that  sorrowing  man!  how  he  smote  his  broad  chest! 

How  he  wept  for  the  world  he  was  going  to  leave! 
He  shrunk  from  the  grave  where  his  bold  comrades  rest, 

And  wept  for  life's  joys  only  made  to  deceive. 
Then  o'er  his  wan  features  a  holy  light  spread, 

As  he  turned  toward  heaven  a" sad,  pleading  eye; 
He  muttered  a  prayer  for  the  peace  of  the  dead. 

While  I  whispered  him  softly "  The  soul  cannot  die:' 
A  smile  threw  its  light  'round  his  feverish  lips, 

As  on  the  hoar  rock  he  laid  down  his  head ; 
The  icy  hand  fell,  'twas  a  moment's  eclipse, 

A  struggle,  a  sigh,  and  his  life-spirit  fled ! 
Where  the  citron-tree  bends  with  its  golden-hued  fruit. 

And  the  coffee-plant  shakes  to  my  fiery  breath, 
I  have  waken'd  the  song  of  the  Spanish  girl's  lute. 

While  I  placed  on  her  lip  the  cold  signet  of  death. 
For  the  death-plague  had  perched  on  my  shadowless  wings. 

And  the  form  that  I  touch'd  became  lifeless  and  cold; 
To  the  dirge  I  awakened  the  lute's  sleeping  strings. 
And  it  sung  of  the  maiden  whose  days  were  all  told. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


159 


I  hurried  me  on,  and  the  things  of  the  earth 

Fell  stricken  with  death  as  I  wandered  along; 
I  blasted  the  joys  of  the  board  and  the  hearth, 

And  I  levelled  to  dust  both  the  feeble  and  strong. 
But,  shrink  not ;  Fve  gathered  the  sweets  of  the  flowers, 

And,  laden  with  perfume,  I  come  to  thee  now, 
To  kiss  the  dew-lips  of  the  rosy-wing'd  hours, 

And  play  with  the  dark  locks  that  shadow  thy  brow. 


Brigadier-general  James  M.  Anderson. 

James  M.  Anderson  was  born  about  the  year  1812,  at 
the  corner  of  Gay  and  Chestnut  streets,  of  Irish  parents, 
who  migrated  to  this  country  during  the  close  of  the 
last  century.  At  a  very  early  age  he  exhibited  great 
talent  for  drawing  and  sketching,  and  aimed  to  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  engraving;  to  accomplish  this  desire  he 
placed  himself  under  the  late  Mr.  Sands,  and  has  ever 
since  followed  thaart.  In  his  younger  days  he  became 
a  member  of  the  Independent  Fire  Compan}^  For 
convenience,  he  afterwards  joined  the  Mechanical  Fire 
Company.  Together  with  Mendez  J.  Cohen,  he  for 
many  years  represented  the  Mechanical  and  Patapsco's 
stockholding  interests  in  the  widely  known  Firemen's 
Insurance  Company.  Being  remarkably  fond  of  the 
military,  he  attached  himself  to  the  Marion  Rifle  Corps, 
and  became  its  orderly  sergeant,  in  which  capacity  he  dis- 
played considerable  military  skill  and  address,  being  of 
handsome  and  commanding  person  and  "every  inch"  a 
soldier.  In  1834  he,  with  others,  organized  the  Inde- 
pendent G-reys,  and  was  chosen  the  first  captain  of  that 
brilliant  company. 

When  Gen.  Howard  called  out  the  military  to  sup- 
press the  Bank  riot,  Capt.  Anderson  was  one  of  the  first 
to  arm  himself  Subsequently  he  became  commander 
of  an  infantry  company  raised  at  FelPs  Point,  called 
the  Invincibles.  Their  uniform  dress  was  of  a  brilliant 
red,  and  they  were  remarkable  for  their  promptness  of 
movement.  Subsequently  he  took  command  of  the  new 
53d  regiment  Maryland  Volunteers,  and  finally  rose  to 
the  rank  of  Brigadier-general  of  the  First  Light  Brigade, 


160 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


Baltimore  Volunteers.  He  is  a  "hickory  democrat" 
in  politics;  and  never  held  an  office  of  profit  until  he 
was  appointed,  by  Mayor  Joshua  Yansant,  Collector  of 
taxes,  the  duties  of  which  he  discharged  with  singular 
fidelity.  He  is  also  a  prominent  Mason.  In  person 
Gen.  Anderson  Is  of  a  commanding  figure ;  fresh  looking 
for  a  man  of  his  j-ears,  and,  the^ ladies  say,  handsome. 
In  manner  he  is  dignified,  yet  afi^able.  He  is  so  well 
known  to  the  citizens  of  Baltimore,  and  enjoys  their 
confidence  and  respect  to  such  a  degree,  that  further 
panegyric  on  my  part  would  be  useless. 

The  Boys  of  Old  Town. 

While  I  resided  on  High  and  North  Gay  streets,  with 
my  own  children  growing  up  around  me,  I  could  not  fail 
to  take  interest  in  those  of  my  neighbors;  and  I  have 
followed  the  careers  of  some  of  the  boys  of  that  period 
with  great  interest,  and  a  friendly  regard  I  have  reason 
to  think  is  reciprocated. 

My  opposite  neighbor  was  the  Mayor  of  the  city, 
Samuel  Brady,  Esq.,  a  native  of  Delaware,  who  came  to 
Baltimore  when  a  youth,  and  entered  as  a  clerk  in  Mr. 
Wallace's  store  on  High  street  below  Gay.  He  subse- 
quently married  Miss  Stansbury,  a  sister  of  Mr.  Wallace, 
and  a  cousin  of  Hon.  Elijah  Stansbury,  afterwards 
Mayor,  who  had  a  large  and  influential  family  connec- 
tion in  Baltimore  County,  where  the  Stansburys  have 
been  distinguished  for  their  patriotism  and  public 
spirit  from  ante-revolutionary  days.  Mayor  Brady  was 
a  hospitable  gentleman,  domestic  and  unostentatious, 
and  friendly  with  the  associates  of  his  children  of 
whom  he  had  quite  a  houseful.  ^ 

A  few  doors  nearer  Gay  street,  on  the  same  side  of 
High  street  as  my  own  dwelling,  resided  the  family  of 
the  great  actor,  Junius  Brutus  Booth ;  the  now  famous 
Edwin  being  then  a  handsome  lad  of  about  fourteen 
years  of  age,  and  John  Wilkes  still  younger. 

Eepresenting  the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Wards  in  the 
Second  Branch  of  the  City  Council,  was  Joseph  J. 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


161 


Stewart,  Esq.,  of  North  Gay  street,  whose  boys,  with 
others  from  the  surrounding  neighborhood,  found  our 
locality  attractive.  Mr.  Stewart  was  a  native  of  Dela- 
ware, of  ante-revolutionary  stock,  originally  sprung 
from  the  Stewarts  of  Tyrone.  His  father  was  a  volun- 
teer under  Lafayette  at  the  battle  of  Brandywine,  and 
he  was  in  service  in  New  York  for  a  short  period  in  the 
war  of  1812.  He  still  lives,  in  the  83d  year  of  his  age, 
with  a  vivid  recollection  of  events  that  transpired  in 
the  beginning  of  the  century,  and  finds  amusement  in 
a  ten-mile  walk. 

Although  at  ages  varying  from  twelve  up  to  sixteen 
years  only,  our  boys  fell  in  with  the  spirit  of  the  time, 
and  got  up  a  debating  society,  of  which  Benjamin  F. 
Brady  was  president,  and  Joseph  J.  Stewart,  Jr.,  secre- 
tary. They  met  in  Miss  Susan  Hyde's  schoolroom,  on 
High  near  Gay  street.  Into  the  folds  of  this  little 
society  they  gathered  their  intellectually  disposed  play- 
mates, and  counted  amongst  them  Geo.  W.  Childs,  who 
lived  below  the  bridge  on  Gay  street ;  Martin  F.  Con- 
way, then  a  poor  boy  in  an  apothecary  store  near  the 
Belair  market;  Andrew  J.  George,  J.  Tisdale  Talbot, 
and  other  lads  whose  names  I  cannot  now  recall. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  a  disposition  towards 
self-culture,  so  early  manifested  in  a  small  coterie  of 
boys,  subsequently  developed  in  their  respective  careers. 
Young  Brady,  notwithstanding  his  father's  great  pros- 
perity, which  gave  him  assurance  of  success  and  posi- 
tion at  home,  was  early  seized  with  the  California 
fever,  went  to  the  El  Dorado  in  search  of  fortune,  and 
I  believe  found  it,  as  he  has  married  and  settled  in  that 
distant  State. 

Joseph  J.  Stewart,  Jr.,  had  an  early  and  chronic 
attack  of  the  cacoethes  scrihendi,  and  wrote  for  the  press 
while  he  was  yet  quite  a  boy.  He  edited  a  Sunday 
paper  published  in  Baltimore,  named  The  Sunday  Dis- 
patch, which  was  issued  from  the  old  Republican  office 
on  the  corner  of  Gay  and  Baltimore  streets ;  but  for 
want  of  capital,  or  because  it  was  an  experiment  in  a 
new  direction,  died  in  about  two  years  after  its  birth, 


162 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


B^d  the  city  remained  without  a  Sunday  paper  until 
I  he  Sunday  Telegram  was  started  durini^  the  civil  war. 

Just  after  attaining  his  majority,  Mr.  Stewart  was 
elected  chief  clerk  of  the  House  of  Delegates,  and  he 
was  subsequently  clerk  of  the  Chancery  Court,  Col- 
lector and  Assessor  of  Internal  Revenue  by  appointment 
of  President  Lincoln,  Union  candidate  for  Congress  in 
1866,  and  nominated  Minister  to  Constantinople  by 
President  Johnson  in  January,  1869.  He  was  chief 
editorial  contributor  to  the  Baltimore  American  inl864-6 
and  to  the  Washington  Chronicle  in  1867-8,  covering  the 
period  of  Col.  John  W.  Forney's  absence  in  Europe,  the 
impeachment  trial  of  President  Johnson,  and  the  first 
election  of  General  Grant  to  the  Presidency. 

George  W.  Childs,  whose  reputation  is  world-wide, 
still  seems  but  a  young  man  to  me,  who  remember  him 
as  a  ruddy-cheeked  boy  of  twelve  summers.  He  is,  in 
fact,  only  in  his  forty-seventh  year;  and  when  I  look 
back  upon  his  humble  beginning,  and  subsequent  re- 
markable success,  I  confess  that  it  dazzles  the  imagina- 
tion like  a  story  from  the  Arabian  Nights,  whose  gorge- 
ous entertainments  of  kings  and  princes  his  own  sur- 
passes in  splendor.  He  and  Stewart  were  inseparable 
friends  in  boyhood,  and,  with  a  rare  fidelity,  they  still 
keep  the  lamp  of  their  early  affection  trimmed  and  burn- 
ing. It  is  a  trait  of  Mr.  Childs'  character  never  to  for- 
get his  early  friends.  He  could  hardly  have  been  over 
fourteen  years  of  age  when  he  left  Baltimore  for  Phila- 
delphia, where  he  entered  the  book-store  of  Peter 
Thompson,  on  the  corner  of  Sixth  and  Arch  streets,  to 
learn  the  business.  As  proprietor  of  the  Public  Ledger, 
the  history  of  his  career  has  become  so  well  and  widely 
known  that  its  repetition  here  would  be  a  work  of 
supererogation.  He  is,  however,  more  than  the  pub- 
lisher of  a  newspaper ;  he  is  a  Philadelphia  institution, 
who  has  carried  the  spirit  of  Baltimore  enterprise,  and 
the  warmth  of  Baltimore  sympathy,  and  the  munificence 
of  Baltimore  benevolence,  to  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love. 
He  has  introduced  to  Philadelphia's  acquaintance  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  letters  and  position  in  the 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST.  163 

world;  entertained  at  his  residence  the  monarchs  of 
mind,  Emperors  of  nations,  Presidents  of  Republics,  and 
leaders  of  the  human  race  in  war  and  peace  tie  nas 
disbursed,  with  a  liberality  not  only  unprecedented  but 
unparalleled,  the  profits  of  his  successful  busmess,  in 
furtherance  of  all  good  objects  and  in  alleviation  ot 
private  suffering.  The  step  from  the  little  schoolroom 
over  a  carpenter's  shop  in  High  street,  to  his  present 
eminence,  seems  a  long  one,  indeed ;  but  he  has  made  it. 

Not  less  distinguished,  but  in  a  different  vr&j,  stands 
out  the  name  of  Edwin  Booth,  before  his  countrymen 
and  the  world.    I  think  he  must  be  about  a  year 
younger  than  Childs,  if  there  be  any  difference,  ile 
was  a  comely  lad,  as  I  remember  him  dressed  in  a 
Spanish  cloak  (amongst  the  first  to  display  that  style 
when  it  came  in),  giving  promise  of  the  man  he  has 
turned  out  to  be.    Inheriting  his  father's  genius  for  the 
mimic  stage,  he  has  achieved  the  first  rank  upon  it,  and 
it  has  been  his  good  fortune  to  have  lived  in  an  era  ot 
larger  prices  and  more  numerous  audiences.    He  is  so 
far  different  from  his  father  in  style  and  execution,  that 
his  greatest  successes  have  been  achieved  in  ditterent 
roles ;  and  while  he  stands  unsurpassed  in  Hamlet,  be 
will  not  find  fault  with  an  old  friend  of  Junius  Brutus 
Booth  for  standing  by  him  as  the  greatest  Richard  iii.. 
Sir  Giles  Overreach,  and  lago,  that  ever  trod  the  Ameri- 
can boards.    But  it  is  of  Edwin  Booth  as  one  of  our 
Old  Town  boys  that  I  am  now  speaking;  and  i  cannot 
permit  myself  to  ramble  off  into  reminiscences  of  his 
father  which  might  lead  me  in  the  digression  ot  a  lull 
chapter.    He  is  still  young  enough  to  have  a  long  career 
of  success  and  usefulness  before  hira.    His  tame  is 
already  the  property  of  his  country,  and  cannot  be  taken 

from  him.  '  t  •  u 

Martin  F.  Conway  was  the  son  of  an  Irish  army 
surgeon  who  died  in  Florida,  leaving  a  widow  witti 
several  children,  who  came  to  Baltimore,  she  being  a 
Mary  lander.  He  was  placed,  at  a  very  early  age  in  an 
apothecary  store,  and  afterwards  learned  the  trade  ot  a 
printer  in  the  American  and  Republican  newspaper-othces. 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 
His  mind  was  thoughtful,  active,  and  original ;  and  with 

euabed  hfm  toT'^'  ^''^^J^^  assofiations  tS 
enabled  him  to  develop  it.  He  began  with  the  little 
boys,  and  afterwards,  with  several  of  them,  joined  the 

XarTonS  ^b'^  'V^^^^ Jefferson.'' ihTeh  met 
basement  n^.i'  ^^^^^^^y  Institute,  which  met  in  the 

i-leasant  and  Calvert  streets;  the  Minerva  which  met 
?on  strt:^  -^.called  "Douglass  Institute,' 'orLexSg- 
street,  which  embraced  in  its  membership  Eel 

?r"7ohnTTo'''f.^'"7'  H-^y  S.  WesLo^d; 

<^"d  Town  boys  who 
have  since  grown  eminent  in  their  professions.  ^ 
7,-.  ^°""g  ^-'fnway  became  an  able  writer  on  the  Hevuh- 

dur^rfhf  ^^'^^^^^.^r-  -"grated  to  Ssas 
Sh  W«  i,fl  P®"^**       '^'^r^er  ruffianism  and 

Sde  of  the  L'^f'"'"^''^  '"''/^  S«  t^-^^^  tl^e  Free  State 
t  ve  of  "T'^'  ^""^  fi'-^t  representa- 

tive of  Kansas  m  Congress,  where  he  served  with  dis 

eart  in  Z        '^'T'  ^  remarkab^  pee  h 

secede  wttwr  ^Tf  f^''^*.*'"^  peacefully 
secede,  which  attracted  attention  not  only  all  over  this 

Tape  7of'prr  *^""/'r^'^'  ^^P'''"*^^  In  tie  Leading 
?Snl  ^"1^.  ^^^""'^ny-    It  was  a  speech  indU 

S  fvt  thought  and  confessedly  able,  but  it  lost 
him  he  sympathy  of  the  Union  men  in  Kansas  and 
they  left  him  out  in  the  next  election.  He  was  after 
wards  appointed  Consul  to  Marseilles,  in  pTance  bv 
President  Johnson,  whence  he  returned  with  fmind 
somewhat  impaired;  and  he  may  now  be  occasioSv 

?ormerTeS"w1th'h"V"  Washi/gton.  a  ^rlTTl 
lormer  sell,  with  his  foxy  hair  floating  about  over  his 
shoulders,  a  striking  and  melancholy  spectacle. 
Andrew  J.  George  still  lives  in  Baltimore  a  popular 

inaucea  him  to  take  a  proper  part  n  political  affairs 
He  exercised  the  office  of  C^lerk  of  the  Ci  ^Court  for 
SIX  years,  and  has  held  other  public  position! 

J.  iisdale  Talbot  was  a  Yankee  boy  from  Massa- 
chusetts, broad-shouldered  and  with  a  good^-ip  He 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST, 


165 


went  back  to  his  birth-place,  and  has  now  become  an 
eminent  physician  in  Boston.  The  only  specimen  of 
his  literary  work  I  have  ever  seen  is  an  exceedingly 
graphic  account  of  an  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc  he  made  in 
1855,  attached  to  Dr.  C.  A.  Bartol's  Pictures  of  Europe/* 
and  a  very  creditable  specimen  it  was.  I  suppose,  how- 
ever, Talbot  was  more  of  a  Massachusetts  boy  than  an 
Old  Town  boy,  although  he  lived  during  the  period  of 
character-development  amongst  the  lads  I  speak  of. 

Older  than  these  boys  by  a  few  years,  which  makes  a 
great  difference  when  they  are  in  their  teens,  but  still 
holding  relations  of  friendly  intercourse  with  them,  were 
William  A.  Stewart,  the  eldest  son  of  Joseph  J.,  who 
began  his  public  career  as  chief  clerk  of  the  Second 
Branch  of  the  City  Council  when  his  father  was  a  mem- 
ber of  it,  and  since  the  war  has  been  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Delegates;  and  William  H.  B.  Pusselbaugh, 
whose  father  was  an  influential  citizen  of  Old  Town, 
and,  with  John  B.  Seidenstricker,  a  great  friend  of 
Mayor  Brady.    Mr.  P.  is  now  Police  Commissioner. 

The  Debating:  Societies. 

Quite  a  feature  of  the  Baltimore  of  the  past  was  its 
literary  societies ;  and  so  many  of  our  public  men  re- 
ceived their  training  in  public  speaking  in  them,  that 
they  deserve  a  history  of  themselves.  The  oldest  one 
in  the  city,  which  has  continued  almost  down  to  the 
present  time,  is  the  old  Jefferson  Debating  Society.  Of 
this  society  Messrs.  James  Bryson  and  Marcus  Wolf, 
the  latter  but  recently  deceased,  have  said  they  were 
members  in  1811.  During  the  period  extending  from 
1836  to  1856,  it  comprised  within  its  membership  such 
well-known  name*  as  those  of  James  Bryson,  Marcus 
Wolf,  Samuel  Brady,  John  B.  Seidenstricker,  Francis 
Gallagher,  John  Kettlewell,  William  Fell  Giles,  Kobert 
M.  McLane,  Samuel  B.  Williams,  John  H.  Barnes, 
Lewis  H.  MuUer,  John  C.  Legrand,  William  P.  Preston, 
William  A.  Stewart,  Joseph  J.  Stewart,  Jr.,  Martin  F. 
Conway,  Dennis  F.  Sweeny,  Major  Sweany,  and  a  host 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 

of  Others  whose  names  I  cannot  now  recall.  It  was  a 
free-and-easy  debating  club,  and  had  existed  so  ]on^  in 
my  time  that  its  constitution  and  by-laws  were  for- 
gott^en,  if  it  ever  had  any,  and  it  was  consequently  lon^ 
lived  and  well  administered.  Its  members  were  gener- 
ally grave  men,  interested  in  public  questions,  and  dis- 
cussed them  with  as  much  gravity,  and  often  with  pro- 
founder  wisdom  than  the  Senate  of  the  United  States, 
^ardly  any  man  rose  to  eminence  for  half  a  century  in 
iialtimore  who  had  not  been  a  member  of  the  Jefferson 
which  always  met  in  Old  Town,  and  mostly  near  the 
Independent  Engine  House. 

^  The  Murray  Institute  was  an  admirable  literary  asso- 
ciation, which  met  in  the  basement  of  the  Universalist 
Church  on  the  N.  E.  cor.  of  Calvert  and  St.  Paul  streets, 
and  flourished  for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  century  Its 
president  during  the  most  of  this  period  was  John  C 
Holland,  Esq.,  who  has  held  several  representative 
positions  and  is  now  President  of  the  Baltimore  and 
Oatonsville  E.  E.  Company.  Its  active  members  before 
the  late  civil  war  were  Judge  S.  Morris  Cochrane,  now 
deceased;  Henry  Stockbridge,  Esq.,  Perley  E.  Lovejoy, 
-Ur  Jno  E.  Snodgrass,  formerly  proprietor  of  The  Sat- 
urday Fz5z^or,  Martin  F.  Conway,  Joseph  J.  Stewart, 
Marcus  Wolf,  Levi  Taylor,  an  amateur  actor  and  de' 
claimer  of  ability,  S.  Sands  Mills,  our  present  exemplary 
and  jovial  SheriflP,  Eev.  James  Shrigley,  and  others 
Ihis  institute  met  on  Wednesday  evenings;  the  public 
were  invited  to  its  entertainments,  which  consisted  of 
recitations,  improvisations  and  debates,  and  for  many 
years  there  was  no  place  of  entertainment  more  regu- 
larly crowded  with  an  attentive  and  intelligent  audi- 
ence than  the  Murray  Institute.    It  ought  to  be  revived. 

Augustus  Mathiot. 

One  of  my  highly  esteemed  neighbors  was  the  late 
Augustus  Mathiot,  a  man  who  commenced  life  at  the 
foot  of  the  ladder,  and  by  his  probity,  energy  and 
suavity  of  manner,  rose  to  the  top.    He  was  one  of  the 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 

original  founders  of  the  Independent  Order  of  Odd 
FeHows  in  America ;  aud,  during  a  faithful  membership 
of  over  fifty  years,  passed  through  the  va"^"^, 
and  at  his  death  (which  occurred  on  the  12th  July, 
?872)  he  bore  the  honors  of  P.  G.  M.,  P.  G.  P.,  and  P. 
G  E  of  the  jurisdiction  of  Maryland  ;  P.  G.  O.  ana 
Sec,  and  P.  G.  Treas.  of  the  G.  L.  TJ.  S. 

The  originators  of  the  Order  on  these  shores  were 
the  hilarious  and  convivial  sons  of  England  and  they 
met,  as  is  pretty  well  known,  at  Wildey-s  cellar,  corner 
of  Front  and  Gay  streets.    Thomas  Wildey  was  the 
prime  spirit  of  the  Order,  and  visited  England  to 
obtain  a  charter.    Mr.  Mathiot   finding  t^ie  Ordei. 
whose  foundation  rested  on  "  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity, 
was  losing  caste  by  indulging  in  bacchanalian  orgies  set 
to  work  to  purify  it,  and  at  length  succeeded  m  abolish- 
ing the  bar-rooms  attached  to  the  lodges.    The  fine 
hall  on  North  Gay  street  was  built,  and  t^e  society 
has  thrived  beyond  precedent.     Wildey,  Welch  and 
Mathiot  were  called  the  -  three  links  "  of  Odd  Fellow- 
ship    The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  remarkably  tond 
of  books.     He  worked   hard  to  establish  the  Odd 
Fellows'  Library,  and  finally  succeeded ;  passing  most 
of  his  latter  days  amid  the  musty  tomes  there  collected 
and  diving  deep  into  occult  lore.    He  mastered  several 
languages,  investigated  cause  and  effect  m  the  various 
phenomena  of  nature,  studied  the  sciences,  and  was  re- 
markably fond  of  argument,  in  which  he  generally 
came  off  victorious.    In  disposition  he  was  mild  and 
eentle,  genial  without  conviviality,  and  always  had  an 
Spen  purse  to  the  cause  of  charity.    Being  a  selt- 
educated  man,  he  made  it  a  boast  that  he  was  under  no 
obligations  to  the  schoolmaster, 

Morse's  Telegraph. 

I  was  lucky  enough  to  be  at  one  end  of  the  line  when 
Professor  Morse  sent  his  first  message  through  his  tele- 
graphic wire.  After  several  years  of  perseverance,  he 
at  length  got  an  appropriation  from  Congress  oi  the  sum 


168 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


of  $30,000,  to  try  his  ^*  visionary  "  theory;  and,  as  there 
are  many  conflicting  stories  as  to  who  had  the  honor  of 
sending  the  first  dispatch,  I  feel  desirous  of  alluding  to 
the  affair. 

I  was  in  Washington,  and  witnessed  the  achievement 
which  so  astonished  the  world— an  achievement  which, 
at  the  present  day,  places  us  within  twenty-four  hours' 
communication  with  our  antipodes.  There  were  many 
persons  present  on  the  Capitol  grounds;  not  a  small 
number  came  to  laugh  at  the  experiment.  The  message 
was  started  from  the  Supreme  Court  chamber,  I  think 
in  the  early  part  of  March,  1843.  It  was  during  the 
administration  of  John  Tyler.  It  was  said  at  the  time 
that  Mrs.  Madison,  the  accomplished  widow  of  Presi- 
dent Madison,  wrote  the  first  message,  at  the  request 
of  the  Hon.  John  Wethered,  our  Eepresentative  in  Con- 
gress.   The  message  sent  was  composed  of  these  words  : 

''Message  from  Mrs,  Madison.  She  sends  her  love  to 
Mrs.  Wethered:' 

In  the  space  of  fifteen  minutes  an  answer  was  returned, 
acknowledging  its  reception. 

In  the  "Life  and  Times  of  Hon.  Elijah  Stansbury,'' 
the  following  paragraph  appears  : 

''  It  was  in  May,  1844,  that  the  first  message  was 
communicated  through  Morse's  telegraph,  from  Wash- 
ington to  Baltimore,  by  Miss  Annie  Ellsworth,  daughter 
of  the  Commissioner  of  Patents;  the  words  being: — 
'  What  hath  God  wrought  / '  " 

The  reader  may  take  either  of  these  traditions.  I 
am  pretty  confident  that  I  did  not  hear  the  name  of 
Miss  Ellsworth  connected  with  the  affair. 

There  were  great  rejoicings  when  the  success  of  the 
experiment  was  announced. 

William  H.  H.  Hayward. 

The  recent  death  of  this  excellent  gentleman,  who 
for  many  years  was  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends 
and  associates,  reminds  me  that  one  more  link  is  broken 
in  the  chain  that  unites  the  present  with  the  past. 


OR^  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


169 


During  my  long  intercourse  with  him  I  ever  found  him 
one  of  nature's  noblemen,  a  gentleman  in  every  sense 
of  the  word— possessing  the  finest  feelings  of  our 
nature  ;  generous,  affable,  and  genial.    He  commenced 
his  career  in  Baltimore  at  the  age  of  fifteen.    He  was 
a  native  of  Lexington,  Mass.,  and  obtained  his  first 
employment  here  as  clerk  in  the  dry-goods  and  clothing 
establishment  of  Ing  k  Tucker,  Centre  Market  Space, 
where  he  was  noted  for  his  urbanity  and  integrity.  In 
1864  he  was  appointed  a  magistrate,  an  office  which  he 
held  with  credit  to  himself  for  twenty-two  consecutive 
years.    He  was  also  an  excellent  soldier,  and  for  many 
years  was  a  non-commissioned  officer  of  the  old  "  Marion 
Rifle  Corps,"    At  the  period  of  the  John  Brown  raid 
he  received  the  commission  of  Colonel  of  the  First 
Maryland  Militia,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  late  war 
was  appointed  Brigadier-general.    As  a  magistrate  he 
was  kind,  yet  firm;   as  a  military  man,  neat  and 
prompt ;  as  a  poet,  enthusiastic,  though  many  of  his 
lyric  efforts  were  crude  and  needed  polish.    He  was 
always  found  in  the  foremost  rank  on  patriotic  and 
charitable  occasions;  and,  although  the  stern  duties  of 
a  magistrate  required  severity,  yet  his  heart  always 
inclined  to  mercy.    His  best  poetical  productions  were 
^'The  Flag  of  the  Union  Forever,"  "The  Old  Town 
Clock,"  "  The  Unknown  Soldiers,"  and  "  Bury  Me  in 
the  Sunshine." 

Thomas  Kelso. 

Among  the  living  reliques  of  past  times,  I  may  hero 
bring  in  the  name  of  our  worthy  and  truly  philan- 
thropic fellow-citizen,  Mr.  Thomas  Kelso.  An  Irishman 
by  birth,  he  came  to  our  city  at  an  early  age,  and  by 
close  attention  to  business  and  honest  dealing  (a  virtue 
which  has  become  a  rara  avis)  he  accumulated  a  hand- 
some property.  He  is  now  in  his  ninety-second  year, 
and  can  calmly  look  back  through  the  long  vista  of  a 
life  well  spent,  and  forward  to  a  happy  futurity.  He  is 
well  known  as  a  sincere  Christian  and  a  benevolent 
gentleman.  Possessing  ample  means,  he  has  made 
8 


170 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


liberal  donations  to  charitable  purposes,  and  given 
largely  to  the  cause  of  the  Christian  chnrch.  Age  has 
not  chilled  the  heart  so  warm  in  youth ;  it  has  even 
intensified  his  ardor  to  do  good  to  his  fellow-creatures. 
On  East  Baltimore  Street  stands  a  living  monument  to 
his  generosity— the  "Kelso  Methodist  Episcopal  Orphan 
Asylum,"  a  spacious  building  which  he  purchased  and 
endowed  with  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The 
institution  is  now  in  a  flourishing  condition  ;  and  Mr. 
Kelso  has  the  proud  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his 
benevolent  object  is  fully  carried  out. 

Rev.  Henry  Slicer. 

Among  the  many  eminent  laborers  in  the  broad  acres 
of  the  Lord,  whom  I  used  to  delight  in  listening  o,  in 
the  foremost  rank  of  my  estimation  stood  the  Christian 
and  scholar  whose  name  heads  this  sketch. 

It  was  said  of  Henry  Slicer  in  his  life-time  : — That 
man  has  as  much  of  the  manhood  of  man  as  any  other 
man  in  Maryland."  He  was  born  in  Annapolis  in  the 
year  1801,  and  came  to  Baltimore  in  early  life,  serving 
as  an  apprentice  to  the  printing  business  under  Jacob 
Daly.  Before  he  became  of  age,  he  was  installed  a 
preacher  of  the  Gospel  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church ;  and  Mr.  Daly  generously  released  him  from 
his  indentures,  in  order  that  he  might  engage  in  the  min- 
istry, where,  by  indomitable  energy,  persistency  of  zeal, 
warm-hearted  Christian  enthusiasm,  he  soon  made  his 
mark  as  a  successful  preacher  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 
I  first  heard  him  at  a  temperance  meeting  in  1839,  at 
the  Wesley  Chapel  in  Baltimore.  He  was  then  in  the 
full  vigor  and  freshness  of  his  manhood.  He  was  a 
champion  of  the  temperance  cause  for  many  years.  He 
was  also  a  popular  lecturer  and  preacher,  presiding  elder 
and  delegate  to  the  General  Conference.  At  one  time 
he  was  chaplain  to  Congress,  and  a  leading  member  of 
the  old  Baltimore  Conference,  taking  the  position  of 
leader  in  debate  on  the  floor  of  the  Conference.  In 
person  he  might  be  called  a  model  of  manhood  \  while 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  PAST. 


his  kindness,  gentleness  of  manners  and  aifability  to  all 
—  the  children  of  the  poor  particularly  —  were  only 
equalled  by  his  greatness  of  soul.  In  1842,  a  member 
of  the  Conference  remarked  :— "At  one  of  our  meetings 
of  the  Conference,  an  appeal  case  came  up,  at  which 
Slicer  and  the  lamented  Cookman  were  the  champions 
on  either  side.  Slicer  triumphed,  and  has  been  the 
leading  man  ever  since." 

In  1845,  Mr.  Slicer  was  in  charge  of  the  jNorth  hJalti- 
more  Station.  There  were  then  three  preachers.  A 
poor  man  lost  his  only  child,  and  in  his  aflliction  desired 
Mr.  Slicer  to  attend  the  funeral.  He  called  on  him,  and^ 
expressed  his  wish.  The  reply  of  the  noble  soldier  of 
the  Cross  was :  .      t  -n 

"  Yes,  brother ;  it  is  not  in  my  district,  but  i  will 
come."    And  he  went ;  foregoing  his  privilege. 

An  endless  amount  of  anecdotes  might  be  related  ot 
this  truly  good  man;  but,  as  I  understand  the  Kev. 
John  N.  Dashiel  is  preparing  a  biography  of  him,  I 
will  bring  my  sketch  to  a  close. 

Mr.  Slicer  died  in  1871,  and  was  buried  from  the 
Mount  Vernon  Church,  Bishop  Ames  officiating. 


George  Appold. 

Among  the  men  of  the  past  generation,  who,  by 
industry,  energy  and  honesty,  accumulated  fortunes, 
and  aided  in  building  up  the  business  of  our  city,  was 
George  Appold.  He  commenced  the  useful  business  of 
tanning  hides,  manufacturing  leather,  about  the  year 
1812,  with  a  small  capital,  and  at  only  nineteen  years 
of  age.  He  leased  a.lot  on  the  Howard  estate  for  his 
purpose  ;  afterwards  purchasing  the  property,  where 
his  sons  carry  on  the  business  at  the  present  time. 
This  place,  on  North  Street,  is  known  as  Howard  Tan- 
nery.  George  Appold  was  a  useful  citizen,  an  enter- 
prising and  successful  business  man,  a  good  husband 
and  father,  and  an  exemplary  Christian.  He  was,  for 
many  years,  a  member  of  the  M.  E.  Church ;  a  man  of 
integrity,  honest,  hospitable  and  generous,  as  well  as 


172 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL; 


prudent,  economical  and  shrewd  in  business.  He  died 
in  January,  1853,  at  about  62  years  of  age,  leaving  ten 
children,  three  sons  and  seven  daughters.  The  sons 
have  largely  extended  the  business,  and  are  now  ranked 
among  the  "  solid  men  "  of  Baltimore ;  having  invested 
largely  in  the  northeastern  section  of  the  city,  and 
built  many  houses  in  the  vicinity  of  Appold  Chapel/' 
which  was  founded  in  part  by  their  liberality. 

John  T.  Ford. 

Among  the  younger  portion  of  my  acquaintances 
some  thirty  years  ago,  was  the  gentleman  whose  name 
heads  this  sketch.  He  was  then  in  his  prime,  and  no 
one  would  believe  him  to  be  an  old  nian  at  the  present 
time,  for  he  is  hale  and  hearty,  showing  that  time  has 
dealt  kindly  with  him.  Mr.  Ford  was  born  in  Baltimore 
in  the  year  1829,  and  is  now  in  his  forty-seventh  year. 
After  passing  through  our  public  schools  he  went  to 
Eichmond,  and  obtained  employment  with  the  late 
William  Greaner,  a  well-known  tobacco  manufacturer, 
and  also  a  Baltimorean.  Not  liking  the  weed  that  so 
niany  men  laud  for  its  narcotic  virtues,  Mr.  Ford  eschewed 
it  by  not  using  it  in  any  shape,  and  abandoning  its 
manufacture.  He  then,  unfortunately,  took  up  the 
book  and  periodical  business,  thinking  that  by  turning 
over  a  new  leaf  he  might  better  his  fortune.  In  about 
a  year  he  abandoned  hook  keeping  as  a  bad  investment. 

He  was  about  twenty-two  years  of  age  when  he 
became  business  manager  for  George  Kunkel's  Nightin- 
gale Minstrels,  a  truly  excellent  band  of  singers  and 
humorists.  He  travelled  with  th^m  through  the  South 
and  West;  and  the  tour  proved  to  be  highly  profitable, 
under  his  expert  management  and  genial  deportment. 
He  is  a  good  writer,  and  furnished  the  press  with 
excellent  articles  on  the  incidents  of  his  travel.  Be- 
coming tired  of  a  roving  life  and  the  frequently  long 
separations  from  his  then  young  and  interesting  family, 
he  planned  a  new  business  programme.  He  associated 
himself  with  George  Kunkel  and  Thomas  Moxley,  the 
latter  a  favorite   personator  of  colored  belles,  and 


OR,  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FAST. 


leased  the  Eichmond  Theatre  ;  also  the  Holliday  Street 
Theatre  of  Baltimore.    Kunkel  and  Moxley  managed 
the  former,  while  Mr.  Ford  remained  in  Baltimore  and 
assumed  entire  control  of  the  Holliday.   The  Eichmond 
concern  was  abandoned  on  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war,  but  new  life  was  given  to  old  Holliday  by  the  tact 
and  energy  of  Mr.  Ford.    The  building  was  polished 
up,  first cTass  actors  were  engaged,  and  it  became  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  fashionable  places  of  amuse- 
ment in  the  city.    He  subsequently  leased  the  Front 
Street   Theatre,  and   erected   in  Washington  a  fine 
building  known  as  "Ford's  Theatre.''  Subsequently, 
the  assassination  of  President  Lincoln  in  this  theatre 
by  John  Wilkes  Booth  extinguished  it  altogether,  by 
order  of  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  then  Secretary  of  War. 
Mr.  Ford,  however,  obtained  $100,000  from  the  Govern- 
ment  for  the  building.   In  1871  he  built  and  opened  the 
fine  structure  on  W.  Fayette  St.,  known  as  Ford's  Grand 
Opera  House.    In  addition  to  the  Holliday  Street 
Theatre,  Mr.  Ford  was  at  one  time  lessee  and  manager  of 
the  National  Theatre,  Washington,  the  new  Eichmond 
Theatre,  and  the  Grand  Opera  House.    In  1858  he  was 
elected  to  the  First  Branch  of  the  City  Council  from  the 
fourteenth  ward,  of  which  body  he  was  chosen  president. 
At  one  time  he  acted  as  mayor  of  the  city,  a  position 
which  he  held  for  several  months.    In  1867  he  was 
prominently  before  the  Democratic  Convention  for  the 
mayoralty  nomination,  but  was  defeated  by  the  Hon. 
Eobert  T.  Banks,  by  a  small  majority.    In  1870  he  was 
elected  to  the  Second  Branch  of  the  Council  from  the 
nineteenth  and  twentieth  wards.   In  the  Council  he  was 
acknowledged  to  be  one  of  its  most  useful  and  active 
members.   He  has  also  been  City  Director,  for  one  term, 
of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Eailroad  ;  a  commissioner  of 
the  McDonough  Fund  on  the  part  of  the  city  of  Balti- 
more ;   President   of  the  Union   Eailroad,  and  has 
frequently  served  in  important  enterprises  of  public 
charity.    In  fact,  Mr.  Ford  is  not  only  a  self-made,  but 
a  popular  man,  kind,  affable  and  genial.    Of  his  specu- 
lations I  know  but  little;  he  has  made  bold  ventures, 
and,  it  is  said,  has  realized  a  handsome  harvest. 


DE  SOTO 

OR 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA 

A  Historical  Poem  in  Three  Cantos. 


BY 

JOHN  H.  HEWITT. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  following  poem  is  founded  on  the  story  of  Co- 
fachiqui,  a  Princess  of  Florida,  or,  more  properl}^  that 
wide  region  traversed  by  Hernandez  de  Soto  during 
his  expedition.    This  district  comprised,  not  only  the 
country  now  known  as  Florida,  but  also  a  portion  of 
Georgia,  Alabama,  and  Louisiana.    De  Soto,  in  his 
wanderings  toward  all  points  of  the  compass,  came  one 
day  to  a  broad  and  rapid  river,  beyond  which,  his  In- 
dian guides  informed  him,  lay  the  territory  of  Cofa- 
chiqui.    The  Spaniards  were  suffering  from  famine  and 
the  fatigues  of  a  long  march.    The  country  through 
which  they  had  passed  was  hostile,  and  they  found  it 
necessary  to  cross  the  stream.    Marching  up  and  dowA 
its  banks,  they  at  length  came  in  sight  of  an  Indian 
town,  where,  they  were  told,  resided  the  rich  and  beau- 
tiful Princess  of  the  country.    Some  of  the  inhabitants 
appeared  on  the  opposite  shore,  and  the  Spaniards  called 
out  to  them,  saying  that  some  friendly  strangers  wished 
to  pay  their  respects  to  their  sovereign  and  treat  for  an 
alliance.    The  natives,  after  gazing  in  astonishment  at 
the  horses  of  the  Spaniards,  ran  away  to  the  town,  and 
shortly  afterwards  six  magistrates  came  down  to  the 
shore  with  their  attendants,  embarked  in  t  canoe,  and 
crossed  the  river.    The  interview  resulted  in  these  am- 
bassadors accepting  the  Spanish  general's  offer  of  peace, 
and  promising  that  their  beloved  Queen  should  receive 
them  with  every  token  of  friendship.    With  this  pledge 
they  bade  De  Soto  adieu. 

History  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  interview 
between  De  Soto  and  Cofachiqui.  The  air  of  the 
Spaniard  was  courtly,  and,  in  return  for  a  string  of 
costly  pearls  which  the  young  and  lovely  Princess 
handed  him,  he  drew  a  valuable  diamond  ring  from  his 
finger  and  gave  it  to  her.  After  these  ceremonies,  the 
Spaniards  were  quartered  in  the  town,  made  perfectly 
at  home,  and  passed  the  time  in  the  pleasantest  manner, 
8* 


178 


DE  SOTO. 


all  their  wants  being  supplied.  The  Indians  built  them 
lofty  arbors  of  green  boughs,  and  feasted  and  amused 
them  by  all  the  means  they  could  devise. 

Cofachiqui  had  in  her  suite  a  young  chief  who  loved 
her  passionately,  but  who  kept  his  love  secret,  prefer- 
ring to  attend  to  her  most  trifling  wishes,  rather  than 
risk  her  displeasure  by  a  confession.  He  was  about 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  was  highly  esteemed  by  the 
Spaniards,  whom  he  had,  in  obedience  to  his  Queen's 
wish,  treated  with  the  greatest  courtesy.  The  historian 
speaks  in  glowing  terms  of  the  elegance  of  his  person 
and  splendor  of  his  costume.  This  youth  died  by  his 
own  hands,  rather  than  betray  his  Queen. 

That  Cofachiqui  loved  De  Soto,  there  can  be  but 
little  doubt.  She  recklessly  gave  him  the  keys  to  the 
treasures  of  the  land,  showed  him  where  he  might  find 
pearls  "  by  the  bushels,"  and  the  yellow  and  white  ore 
for  which  his  greedy  soul  thirsted.  Even  the  resting- 
places  of  the  dead  were  ransacked  for  treasure:  This 
generosity  was  repaid  with  the  blackest  ingratitude. 
The  Spaniards  abused  tbe  people,  quarrels  arose  between 
them,  and  De  Soto  had  the  baseness  to  seize  the  person 
of  his  generous  hostess  and  carry  her  olf.  He  compelled 
her  to  travel  on  foot,  with  the  women  of  her  train,  for 
three  hundred  miles,  during  which  march  the  Spaniards 
were  everywhere  struck  with  the  demonstrations  of 
reverence  and  love  displayed  toward  her  by  her  people. 
At  her  command,  the  Indians  in  every  town  through 
which  they  passed  came  out  of  their  houses  to  carry  the 
baggage  of  the  Spaniards  and  procure  them  food.  After 
being  dragged  a  prisoner  in  the  Spanish  camp  for  two 
or  three  weeks,  she  found  an  opportunity  to  escape. 
She  was  never  heard  of  afterwards. 

The  historian  of  Florida,  Garcilaso  do  la  Vega,  termi- 
nates his  account  of  this  Princess  by  declaring  that  she 
possessed  a  truly  noble  heart,  and  was  worthy  of  an 
empire.  Shame  for  his  countrj^men  has  induced  him  to 
suppress  all  mention  of  tbe  brutal  indignity  to  which 
she  was  subjected  by  De  Soto,  and  for  wnich,  as  a  Cas- 
tilian  knight,  he  deserved  to  be  deprived  of  his  spurs. 


DE  SOTO 


CANTO  I. 

How  beautiful  is  night !  each  star 
Laughs  iu  its  azure  sphere  afar ; 
The  silent  moon  all  pensive  looks 
On  heaving  seas  and  murmuring  brooks ; 
While,  solitary  and  alone, 
The  whip-poor-will,  with  plaintive  tone, 
Sings  to  the  gem-crowned  night  his  lay. 
And  woos  the  glow-worm's  humbler  ray. 
Hail,  queen  of  night !  whose  silver  beam 
Kisses  the  riplets  of  the  stream ! 
Heaven's  jewelled  front,  in  starry  blaze, 
Is  spread  before  the  wandering  gaze; 
And,  on  the  river's  sparkling  breast 
The  placid  star-beams  seem  to  rest. 

The  round  moon  rose ;  her  silver  ray 
Glanced,  smiling,  on  the  waves,  that  gay 
With  boundless  freedom  danced  along 
The  shore,  while  their  eternal  song 
Crept  stealthily  to  ears  that  listened, 
While  love-lit  eyes  looked  on  and  glistened. 
It  beckoned  love,  that  fairy  scene! 
The  song  of  waters,  as  between 
The  reeds  they  crept,  and  kissed,  and  then 
Boiled  back,  delighted,  to  the  main. 

There  sat  an  Indian  maid  beneath 

A  lofty  palm ;  her  jetty  eye 
Watching  the  laugbing  waves,  whose  wreath 

Of  liquid  diamonds  rising  high 

Formed  a  pale  Iris  on  the  sky. 
Pensive  and  lone,  her  deep-drawn  sighs 

Mingled  with  zephyrs  as  they  passed  j 


DE  SOTO; 


While  her  dark  eye  read  mysteries 

Hid  in  the  deep.    She  slowly  cast 
Leaves  of  a  mystic  flower  upon 
The  wavelets  as  they  wandered  on. 
How  beautiful  she  looked !  how  wild 
Her  glance,  as  on  the  deep  she  smiled! 
The  amorous  wind-gods,  as  they  flew, 
Wooed  her  dark  hair  ;  the  midnight-dew 
Fell  on  her  lips,  as  if  it  were 
To  mingle  with  the  honey  there. 
Still,  grief's  impress  was  marked  upon 
Her  shadowy  brow  ;  the  joy  was  gone 
That  once  illumed  that  eye  ;  fierce  now 
The  flame  that  played  beneath  that  brow. 

The  melancholy  moon  still  smiled 
On  sea,  on  shore,  on  woodland  wild ; 
While  from  her  taper  fingers  fell 
The  mystic  leaves  that  wrought  the  spell. 
"  I  love  thy  pale  and  pensive  light 

Dancing  upon  the  broad  lagoon  ; 
But,  why  shine  out  so  fair  and  bright, 

Fair  moon  !  chaste  moon  ! 
Wild  as  thy  bosom  swells  my  heart ; 

I  cast  these  charmed  leaves  on  thee. 
While  roll  thy  frothy  waves  apart, 

Glad  sea  ?  bright  sea  I 
And  canst  thou  hear  my  plaint,  thou  gem 

Of  the  Great  Spirit's  realm  afar? 
Thou  diamond  of  Night's  diadem, 

Pure  star !  lone  star  I 
To  every  wild  nook  bear  my  wail ; 

Where  sleeps  the  tura,*  bounds  the  hind, 
And  gently  fill  the  white  man's  sail, 

Mild  wind !  soft  wind  ! 

The  waves  rolled  on  in  all  their  pride, 
The  wild  song  of  the  Tritons  died ; 


*Tara.  tbe  Indian  name  for  tlie  alllgat<ur« 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA,  181' 

While  from  the  deep  sea's  hidden  caves 
Arose  strange  forms  above  the  waves, 
As  if  to  catch  the  magic  strain 
Ere  it  died  on  the  heaving  main. 
Once  more  the  Sukia*  threw  her  spell 

Of  snow-white  leaves  o'er  the  lagoon  ; 
The  petals  faded  as  they  fell, 

They  were  the  offspring  of  the  moon  If 
"  Fair  flower  of  night !  whose  leaflets  die 
When  morning  paints  the  eastern  sky ! 
Thou  pale  recluse  !  who  shun'st  the  light, 
And  court'st  the  chilly  mists  of  night ; 
Oh  how  like  thee  my  soul  doth  shun 
The  burning  rays  of  morning's  sun, 
That  it  may  swell  more  fresh  at  night, 
And  glory  in  its  own  sad  light ! 
Now,  wading  through  immensity, 
The  laughing  moon  looks  on  the  sea, 
And  darts  a  more  inviting  ray 
Than  e'er  was  known  to  smile  by  day  ; 
Thou,  thou  sad  flower  !  alone  doth  seem 
To  worship  her  calm,  silvery  beam, 
While  other  plants  await  the  morn 
To  bow  before  the  monarch  sun. 
I  press  thee  to  my  aching  heart 
And  bid  thee  ease  its  burning  smart ; 
Like  thee,  when  Night's  dark  daughters  come 
To  throw  o'er  earth  their  mantling  gloom. 
That  heart  flies  from  the  bright  and  gay 
To  throb  the  midnight  hour  away — 
To  bleed  within  the  cold  moon's  light, 
And  count  the  shadowy  hours  of  night." 

•TheSukia.the  enchantress  of  the  Gulf  coast.  They  generally  used  a  ^amhoo 
wandVworeno  dress  except  X\^^uleioumon.  To  effect  a  cj^^rm  they  ^'ndl^d  a.  fire 
of  DiDe-knots.  threw  into  the  flames  narcotic  plants  or  the  leaves  of  mysterious 
flowers  They  would  often  step  into  the  flames  bare-footed  and  come  out  un- 
harmed.  Sometimes  they  would  mutter  a  charm  place  the  r  "P;>"^t^^^ 
wand,  break  it  in  the  middle,  shaking  out  from  the  8^,^^*on  In  the  hand  a  full-gro^^^ 
tamagosa  snake,  which,  in  an  instant,  would  coil  itself  up  flatten  its  head  and  dart 
its  toneue  out  in  defence.  The  Sakia  receives  the  bite  and  danhes  the  reptile  aside. 
The  Sakias  were  said  to  have  control  over  the  sea,  the  rivers  and  lagoons. 

t  The  plant  ^6or  Iriim.  It  has  leaves  during  the  day  only,  but  at  about  nine 
o'clock  at  night  it  is  covered  all  over  with  flowers  of  a  beautiful  white  and  of  a  moat 
delicate  perfume. 


182 


DE  SOTO; 


Thus  Kabosilma*  worked  the  charm 

That  bound  the  sea,  the  lake,  the  river; 
It  bade  the  angry  waves  be  calm, 

Or  swell  into  a  mighty  storm! 
Taking  an  arrow  from  her  quiver, 

She  placed  it  on  an  oaken  bow, 
And  turned  its  head  towards  the  north ; 

Then  with  her  cheeks  and  eyes  aglow, 
She  sped  the  winged  death-shaft  forth. 
"Outstrip  the  wind  !    O'er  field  and  flood, 
Thou  pinioned  messenger  of  blood  ! 
Nor  stay  thy  rush  through  sable  night 
'Till  Manasulaf  marks  thy  flight, 
And  TuktawitaJ  sees  the  sign 
That  dooms  them  both  to  grief.    *Tis  mine — 
The  power  to  mark  the  rolling  sea, 
Send  to  these  shores  an  enemy 
Who'll  curse  with  rapine  all  the  land. 
And,  while  he  smiles,  wield  sword  and  brand! 
Mine  the  high  power  to  fill  the  air 
With  howls  of  anguish  and  despair ; 
To  blast  the  fields — to  hurl  disease 

On  warrior  strong,  or  tender  maid; 
To  send  quick  poison  on  the  breeze. 

And  make  the  aga  §  droop  and  fade. 


"  Thus  do  I  war  upon  my  race. 
Thus  proudly  meet  fate  face  to  face ! 
For  I  have  loved  as  maid  ne'er  loved — 
That  Sukias  can  love  I  have  proved ; 
That  they  can  hate,  too  soon  I'll  show — 
Oh !  Manasula  !  soon  thou'lt  know !  " 
And  then  she  bent  her  bow  with  might ; 
The  arrow  took  its  airy  flight. 
Singing  a  death-song  as  it  sped, 
That  seemed  to  wake  the  sleeping  dead, 

•  Kabosilma— the  star  of  the  sea. 

t  Ma-na-8Qla— Deer-foot. 

i  Tuk-ta-wita— Boy-chief . 

$  Aga— the  Indian  name  for  maize. 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA,  183 

Her  dark  glance  wandered  o'er  the  sea ; 

Wildly  she  wreathed  her  raven  hair 
With  nightshade  blossoms  ;  mournfully 

The  weeping  willow  flourished  there. 
■    The  tamagosa's*  fiery  tongue 

Quivered  amid  the  mangrove  leaves ; 
The  corral*  slowly  crept  along, 
While  from  the  gloomy  lianesf  hung 

The  deadly  scorpion.    Wildly  heaves 
The  frothy  wave  ;— the  bernicej  trails 

Its  silken  hair  along  the  sea, 
While  the  white  ibis§  onward  sails, 

Shrieking  its  midnight  melody. 
Pale,  glimmering  lights  rose  here  and  there, 
Danced  weird-like  on  the  noxious  air. 
Then  rolling  o'er  the  broad  lagoon, 
Licked  up  the  stray  beams  of  the  moon. 
The  swamp-lamp  flickered,  while  the  owl 
Shrieked— and  the  crouching  panther's  howl 
Waked  the  dull  echo,  as  the  deer 
Sprang  from  her  covert  wild  with  fear. 

The  Sukia's  spell  was  o*er ;  she  turned, 
And,  guided  by  the  flames  that  burned, 
O'er  many  a  fen  she  slowly  moved, 
Through  the  dark  solitude  she  loved. 
Coiling  and  hissing  in  her  path, 
The  corral  shook  its  tongue  of  wrath, 
While  hosts  of  creeping,  slimy  things 
Crawled  in  her  way ;  vampire  wings 
Fanned  her  hot  cheeks,  and  tiger  yells 
Echoed  along  the  woody  dells. 
With  fleeter  steps  she  hurried  o'er 
The  yellow  sand  along  the  shore, 
And  then  o'er  grassy  lawn  she  bounded. 
Until  her  heavy  footstep  sounded 

•The  <a7Ma.aosa  and  cormZ  are  highly  venomous  serpents.  The  latter  is  the  most 
beau tifal.  and  yet  the  most  poisonous  of  its  species.  ^  r.tHo..a 

tTh^  ian6S.  or  rope  plants:  vines  which  so aietitnes  hang  loose,  and  at  oth^^^^ 
stJetcl^  themselves  to  the  earth  and  tal^e  new  i^^  The  leaves  are  of  translucent 
green,  and  it  is  loaded  with  clusters  of  bright  flowers.  T^,l1=^n<r  hpart 

±  The  beriiice  is  a  species  of  seA-nettle,  with  long  sillcen  balr  and  P«^sing  lieart. 

\  There  are  two  kiSds  of  iU% ;  the  white  and  red.  They,  with  the^ammflro.  inhabit 
the  borders  of  lagoons  and  rivers. 


184 


DE  SOTO; 


Upon  the  rattling  bamboo  floor 
Within  her  wicker  cabin  door. 

On  Tampa's  strand  glad  wavelets  crept 
And  dallied  with  the  day-god's  beams, 
Beneath  whose  glow  the  billows  slept 
Calm  as  the  spell  of  infant  dreams  ; 
In  sportive  play  the  dolphin  leapt 

From  the  blue  deep  with  flashing  scales ; 
While  onward,  like  a  phantom,  swept 

The  nautilus  with  rainbow  sails. 
Far  off  upon  the  sunlit  sea, 
With  pennon  drooping  lazily, 
And  flapping  sails,  a  galleon  bold 
Seemed  floating  on  a  sea  of  gold. 
That  barren  coast  had  ne'er  before, 
In  sunny  light  or  tempest's  roar, 
Beheld  so  bright,  so  strange  a  thing, 
A  huge  sea  monster  on  the  wing ! 
And  yet  again,  another  hull 

Loomed  up  just  on  the  ocean's  rim  ; 
And  loudly  shrieked  the  wild  sea-gull, 

While  far  away,  in  distance  dim, 
A  third  and  fourth,  with  white  sails  bent, 
Skimmed  through  the  liquid  element, 
Bearing  a  host  of  cavaliers 
With  arquebuse  and  pennoned  spears. 
With  plumed  helm  and  steel  cuirass, 
They  stood  upon  the  vessel's  deck ; 
Their  gaze  stretched  o'er  the  sea  of  glass 

Toward  the  land,  which,  like  a  speck. 
Just  rose  above  the  dim  confine 

Of  waters  stretching  toward  the  west, 
Where  hung  a  long  and  fleecy  line 
Of  clouds  o'er  ocean's  heaving  breast. 

"  Ho,  land  of  gold  !  "  the  Spaniard  cried, 
Swelling  with  cherished  hope  and  pride, 

The  treasures  of  the  earth  and  sea, 
Metals  and  gems  whose  brilliancy 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 

Dazzle  the  eyes  of  wondering  host, 

Will  all  bo  mine  at  trifling  cost. 

Ah,  ha  !  there^s  wealth  beneath  thy  soil, 

The  talisman  that  spreads  a  smile 

Over  the  face  of  care,  the  god 

To  which  the  proudest  monarchs  nod  ! 

And  pearls  as  rich  as  e'er  were  seen 

To  grace  the  neck  of  Indian  Queen, 

Shall  roll  into  our  coffers,  while 

The  spices  of  each  flowery  isle 

Shall  fill  our  holds,  and  charge  the  air 

That  fans  our  sails  with  odors  rare. 

Blow,  winds !  until  old  ocean  roars, 

And  bear  us  to  yon  fairy  shores," 

The  helmsman  cast  his  eye  aloft. 

And  marked  the  quivering  topmost  sail ; 
On  viewless  wings  and  whispering  soft. 

Came  creeping  on  the  gentle  gale. 
A  ripple,  then  a  hurried  flaw. 

And  then  the  sails  began  to  fill ; 
The  barque  leapt  gaily  toward  the  shore, 

Cleaving  the  billows  with  a  will. 
Soon  was  a  sheltered  harbor  reached, 
Soon  was  the  armed  pinnace  beached, 
And  then,  'mid  holy  rites,  was  raised 
The  Cross  of  Christ ;  around  it  blazed 
The  sacred  fires,  while  warriors  bold 
Praised  God,  and  claimed  that  Land  of  Gold. 

Aurora,  herald  of  the  morn. 

High  on  her  radiant  chariot  borne, 

Sped  up  the  crimson  east,  and  drew 

Night's  curtain  from  the  field  of  blue. 

The  monarch  sun  arose  ;  the  veil 

"Was  raised,  the  morning  star  turned  pale  ; 

And  as  Sol  rose  high  in  the  east 

To  herald  in  the  summer  feast. 

The  forest  songsters  sang  their  lay 

And  welcomed  in  the  golden  day. 


186 


DE  SOTO; 


Who  tarries  when  the  Princess  calls? 

From  valley,  hill  and  swamp  they  come 
And  crowd  round  Manasula*s  halls  " 

To  sounds  of  flute,  and  conque,  and  drum. 
The  plumbd  warrior,  bearing  high, 
In  all  his  savage  majesty, 
The  trophies  of  heroic  deeds 

On  hunting-ground  or  battle-plain, 
With  rattle-gourds  and  trumpet  re^ds 

Wild  mingling  with  the  warlike  strain. 
Upon  his  swarthy  breast  he  bore 
A  score  of  scalps,  some  red  with  gore, 
Armlets  and  anklets  made  of  teeth 

Of  panther,  mantinee,''^  or  bear, 
While  ibis  feathers  formed  a  wreath 
Like  clots  of  blood  amid  his  hair. 
Then  maidens  came  with  strings  of  pearls 
Woven  amid  their  raven  curls  ; 
Flamingo  feathers  nicely  braided 

Around  their  bright  and  sunny  brows, 
By  feathery  palm-ieaves  darkly  shaded. 

With  zones  of  beads  all  worked  in  rows 
And  strange  devices  ;  moccasins 
Of  deer,  or  wolf,  or  tura  skins. 
The  grove  resounded  with  their  song, 
And  echo  passed  the  strain  along, 
While  stalwart  youths,  with  hardy  frames, 
Joined  in  their  wild  athletic  games.  ' 

Young  Tuktawita  stood  aloof, 

The  day-star  of  his  dreams  as  yet 
Was  hid  beneath  her  palace  roof; 

The  gay  macaw  and  paroquet 
Fluttered  around  the  wicker  door. 

Or  hung  upon  the  clinging  vine  ; 
But  she,  the  Queen,  whose  nod  was  law, 

Disdained  upon  the  throng  to  shine. 
With  folded  arms  he  gazed  upon 
The  glories  of  the  rising  sun, 


*  Mantlnee,  the  river  cow. 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA.  1^7 

And  only  thought,  how  passing  fair 

'Twould  be,  if  she,  his  queen,  were  there! 

"  Come  forth,  O  Queen  !   The  sun  looks  on  the  lake, 

And  merry  elves,  with  pencils  dipped  in  hgtit, 
Gild  the  glad  waves;  no  more  the  owlets  wake 

Their  solem.n  voices  to  the  queen  of  night. 
Lol  the  red  sentry  of  the  broad  lagoon* 

Stalks  proudly  through  the  flood  of  golden  rays; 
The  curapow,t  with  crest  like  silver  moon, 
Turns  to  the  sun  his  proud  defiant  gaze. 
In  the  deep  copse,  which  e'en  the  tapir  shuns, 

The  howling  monoj  chants  his  sad  complaint  3 
While  in  the  ravine  where  the  brooklet  runs, 

No  meteor  flame  burns  fitfully  and  faint. 
But  we'll  not  seek  the  dark  and  dreary  woods. 

While,  like  a  coronet  of  gems,  the  hill  looms  up ; 
We'll  watch  the  dew-drops  peeping  through  their  hoods, 

Or  glittering  upon  the  rim  of  lily-cup. 
Come  forth,  sweet  Princess !  brush  the  dew  away, 

And  wear  a  crown  of  sunbeams  on  your  brow ; 
I  love  to  see  your  raven  tresses  play 

With  odor-laden  winds.    Come  now,  come  now, 
Let  the  grey  rocks  send  back  our  noisy  shout. 

While  the  young  sunbeams  wanton  on  your  cheeks  ; 
Now  is  the  time  to  let  love's  secret  out, 

»Tis  when  the  flowers  are  brightest  that  he  speaks. 
Thus  sang  the  youth  beneath  the  palm 
That  threw  its  shadow  on  the  bower 
Where  Manasula  dwelt ;  a  charm 

Was  in  the  song.    Amid  a  shower 
Of  fragrant  flowers  forth  came  the  Queen, 
With  coronet  of  gems,  whose  sheen 
Flashed  in  the  sun  and  threw  around 

A  halo  of  surpassing  brightness, 
The  while  her  small  foot  kissed  the  ground. 
Oh,  how  much  like  the  doe's  in  lightness  1 

*  The  red  flamingo.  ,  .   fot^i.r  i^ira 

cries. 


188 


DE  SOTO; 


Armlets  of  gold,  with  strings  of  pearls 

Twisted  amid  her  jetty  curls; 

While  from  her  shoulders  gaily  hung 

A  tiger-skin,  and  bear's  teeth  strung 

In  wide  festoons  adorned  her  neck 

Of  golden  hue,  where  not  a  speck 

Marred  the  bright  skin,  or  stayed  the  swell 

Of  amber  breasts  that  rose  and  fell. 

Hail,  beauteous  Queen  !  the  summer  flowers 
Spring  up  around  thy  shady  bowers. 
The  diamond  frost  of  winter  old 
Melts  when  'tis  kissed  by  beams  of  gold  ; 
And,  flashing,  leap  the  unfettered  waves, 
Laden  with  gems  from  ocean's  caves. 
The  balmy  south-winds  hither  come 
Fresh  from  their  motley  prairie  home  ; 
On  viewless  wings,  o'er  parterres  gay, 
Bright  laughing  sprites  the  call  obey, 
Kiss  thy  bright  cheeks  and  lips  of  balm. 
Frolicking  around  thy  fairy  form. 

Welcome,"— said  she.      The  sun  is  up, 
And  dew-drops  fill  the  rain-plant's  cup.* 
Lo  !  how  the  fiery  monarch's  beams 
Crimson  the  plunging  valley  streams. 
Like  molten  gold,  the  waveless  sea 
Sends  back  his  glorious  brilliancy! 
Chant  ye  the  paean  of  the  sun — 
The  monarch  of  the  day  begun." 
Then  rang  the  woods  with  anthem  bold. 

While  high  the  radiant  god  arose; 
Flaming  o'er  earth  his  rays  of  gold, 

And  lulling  the  billows  to  repose. 

O,  thou  that  riseth  now — round  as  the  shield 
The  mighty  bear  upon  the  battle-field ! 
Whence  thy  effulgency,  O  glorious  Sun! 
Whence  that  eternal  light  that  gilds  the  lawn, 

•  The  rain- plant,  or  wild  pine-a  clambering:  vine.  It  springs  from  the  forks  of 
large  trees,  to  the  height  of  from  four  to  six  feet.  The  leaves  are  broad,  and  wrap 
around  themselves,  like  a  roll,  forming  reservoirs,  in  which  the  rain  or  dew  is  col- 
lected and  retained  safe  from  the  sun  and  wind.  Each  leaf  will  hold  a  Quart  of  clear 
translucent  water. 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 

And  paints  the  roof  of  heaven— as  stars  retire 
And  hide  their  lustre  in  thy  mightier  fire  > 
Thou  comest  forth  in  all  thy  majesty, 
Gemming  the  billows  of  the  frothy  sea ; 
And,  on  the  jagged  cliflF— behold,  thy  ray 
Chases  the  vapors  of  the  night  away. 
The  vale  of  spirits  still  is  dark,  O  Sua ! 
Ill-boding  whispers  through  its  caverns  run : 
The  song  of  blessed  souls  is  hushed  ;  and  now 
Wild  burning  floods  pour  from  the  mountain  brow. 
Shine  out,  O  glorious  light!  and  hear  the  howls 
Of  restless  spirits  from  the  vale  of  souls. 

"O  hearkener  to  the  warrior-sprayer!  the  tides 
Still  ebb  and  flow;  the  moon  her  paleness  hides 
Beneath  the  curling  wave ;  the  gnarled  oafc 
Is  riven  by  the  sharp-edged  lightning  s  stroke ; 
The  lakes  dry  up  ;  the  hoary  cliff",  where  burst 
The  angry  clouds,  in  age,  sinks  to  the  dust. 
Yet  thou  alone,  triumphant,  roUest  on 
Above  the  shattered  globe,  O  deathless  bun 
When  tempests  gather  round  the  world  and  loua 
Bellowing  thunders  roll  from  cloud  to  cloud ; 
When  lightnings  pierce  the  purple  air,  and  cast 
Their  sudden  gleamings  through  the  raging  blast 
Thou  look'st  in  beauty  through  the  clouds  unfurled 
In  awful  splendor  o'er  the  trembling  world. 

O  glorious  light !  amid  the  war-storm  thus 

Bestow  thy  golden  influence  on  us. 

"  We  go  intrepid  to  the  battle-field  ; 

Thine  image  glitters  on  the  warrior's  shield, 

His  arrow  splits  thy  ray.    Shine  out,  O  bun  1 

With  beams  of  victory  from  thine  azure  zone. 

The  ghosts  of  chieftains  rise  before  our  sight 

And  call  us  to  the  field,  where  valor's  might 

Is  tested  by  the  sinewed  arm.    Beam  on, 

Propitious  radiance !  we  bend  to  none 

But  thee,  whose  floods  of  heavenly  fire  have  shed 

Such  glory  on  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  ^ 


DE  SOTO; 

Smile  on  our  warriors  brave ;  and,      sink  not 
With  face  of  blood  still  beaming  on  the  spot 
Where  thousands  welter  in  their  gore— all  low, 
With  face  to  thee  and  feet  toward  the  foe. 
O  glorious  light !— upon  the  battle-heath 
Eaise  the  fallen  spirit  from  the  couch  of  death  ! " 

Young  Tuktawita  sprang  to  greet 
The  smiling  Queen.    Low  at  her  feet 
He  knelt,  and  with  a  stripling's  air. 
Scattered  his  hunting  trophies  there. 

We  greet  you,  beauteous  child  of  day ! 
With  sounding  horn  and  trappings  gay. 
Fresh  from  the  hunt,  my  warrior  band, 
With  faithful  bow  and  spear  in  hand. 
Have  hither  come  to  join  your  sports, 
And  revel  in  your  flowery  courts. 
The  antlered  stag,  the  timid  fawn. 
Lie  prostrate  on  the  grassy  lawn  ; 
These  we  bestow  on  you — the  flower 
That  blooms  supreme  in  Beauty's  bower. 
Humbly  we  thus  our  tribute  pay 
To  Manasula— Queen  of  day !  " 

A  sweet  smile  spread  her  coral  lips, 

As  on  the  youthful  chief  she  gazed; 
And,  smoothing  with  her  finger-tips 

His  glossy  hair,  his  form  she  raised, 
m?^^^'''*^  strong— though  young.  Like  the  young  staff 
Iby  fleet  foot  leaps  from  crag  to  crag; 
Thine  eye  is  quick,  thine  arrow  true. 
And  thou  canst  guide  the  light  canoe 
With  manly  skill— though  young  in  years; 

But  thine  is  not  the  warrior's  arm.  ' 
Behold,  around — a  thousand  spears. 

Like  lightning  flashes  mid  the  storm, 
Gleam  in  the  sun,  ready  to  screen 
From  hostile  hosts  their  rightful  Queen. 
Hath  Tuktawita's  soul  no  fire 
For  warlike  deeds,  no  fond  desire  ?  " 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 

The  youth  looked  down,  his  noble  chest 

Swelled  as  he  lowly  bowed  his  head. 
«  Try  me/'  he  cried  ;     I  will  not  rest 
'Till  plume  of  eagle  decks  my  crest, 

Or  I  lie  sleeping  with  the  dead. 
This  arrow,  found  at  early  dawn 
Besting  upon  the  grassy  lawn. 
Betokens  war.    'Tis  from  the  quiver 

Of  Kabosilma,  she  whose  spells 
Are  worked  near  broad  lagoon  and  river, 

And  its  lone  flight  dark  deeds  foretells. 
Then,  then,  when  danger's  nigh,  O  Queen ! 
Shall  Tuktawita's  arm  be  seen 
Wielding  the  war-club  on  the  field 
With  mighty  strength,  his  breast  thy  shield ! 

The  Princess  smiled,  then  waved  her  hand 
In  greeting  to  the  warrior  band 
And  dancing  maids,  who  gathered  round, 
Scattering  blue  lotos  on  the  ground. 
"  Welcome  to  all.    The  day  advances, 
Let's  pass  it,  friends,  in  games  and  dances. 
Come,  gather  round,  be  happy  all ; 
This  is  our  summer  festival. 
The  mighty  sun  pours  out  his  fire ; 
Let's  to  the  groves  of  palms  retire 
And  shield  us  from  his  burning  rays, 
While  the  cool  sea-breeze  on  us  plays. 
The  doe  seeks  shelter  'mong  the  trees, 
And  woos  the  gentle  sighing  breeze ; 
While,  dipping  in  the  mirror  wave, 
The  swallow  seeks  its  wings  to  lave. 
Speed,  warrior  chiefs  and  maidens  bright ; 
Be  this  a  day  of  pure  delight." 


192 


DE  SOTO; 


CANTO  11. 

Tall  were  the  plumes  of  Talamita,* 

And  strong  his  bow.    He  stood  afar, 
And  marked  the  youthful  Tuktawita, 

His  dark  eye  flashing  like  a  star 
That  peers  'tween  clouds  of  sombre  hue, 
Fierce  in  its  field  of  mellow  blue. 
Pull  two  score  scalps  hung  at  his  belt, 

And  tiger-teeth  adorned  his  neck  ; 
Bare  wampum  formed  his  tunic's  welt, 

His  shoes  were  made  of  skin  of  snake. 
All  wistfully  the  chieftain  gazed 
Upon  the  Queen,  whose  beauty  blazed 
More  bright  than  star,  or  moon,  or  sun, 
Shining  alike  on  every  one. 
No  arm  like  his  the  spear  could  wield, 

No  hand  like  his  the  javelin  throw ; 
No  shout  so  loud  on  battle-field, 

No  eye  so  sure  with  bended  bow  : 
The  Casique  of  a  warlike  race 

Whose  deeds  had  sounded  through  the  land ; 
With  tattooed  skin  and  painted  face, 

He  seemed  like  one  born  to  command ! 

On  went  the  games.    Some  javelins  threw, 

Some  sped  the  arrow  to  its  mark ; 
While  others  launched  the  staunch  canoe, 

And  speared  the  tapir  or  the  shark. 
The  wrestlers  bared  their  tawny  forms. 

And  grasped  each  other  round  the  waist ; 
With  shield  and  club  and  sinewy  arms, 

Stout  warriors  face  to  face  were  placed, 
And,  yelling  loud  the  battle-cry, 
Struggled  to  gain  the  victory. 
And  there  were  maids  whose  flashing  eyes 
Scattered  around  strange  witcheries ; 
Whose  limbs  were  lithe,  whose  light  feet  glanced 

Like  a  soft  zephyr  over  flowers  ; 

•  Ta-la-mita— the  bloody  hand. 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA, 


And  wild  their  music  as  they  danced 

'Mid  merry  shouts  and  rose-leaf  showers, 

A  dark  form  glided  through  the  brake. 

And  leaped  into  a  bark  canoe ; 
Then  paddling  swiftly  o'er  the  lake. 
In  silence,  like  a  water-snake, 

It  sped  the  liquid  mirror  through. 
On,  on  its  course,  'till  'mid  the  rank 
And  noxious  weeds  on  river  bank, 
'Twas  moored;  then,  with  a  bound, 
The  Sukia's  light  foot  touched  the  ground. 
Triumphant  was  the  glance  she  threw 
Over  the  watery  field  of  blue  ; 
And  yet  more  brightly  glared  her  eyes 
When  she  beheld  the  revelries 
Of  warrior  chiefs  and  maidens  bright 
Joining  in  dance  and  mimic  fight. 

The  spell  has  worked  1  "  she,  smiling,  said  ; 
The  sea  is  white  with  wing'd  canoes  ; 
And,  on  the  shore  arm'd  warriors  tread, 
Who  seem  as  risen  from  the  dead : 

On  their  bright  casques  the  morning  dews 
Shine  in  the  light.    Wo,  wo  to  ye, 

Proud  Manasula  I    Soon  the  howl 
Of  death  shall  mar  thy  revehy, 

And  strike  with  fear  thy  vaunting  soul!  " 
Then  sped  she  to  the  grove  of  palm  ; 

Stately  her  steps  and  proud  her  mien  ; 
A  corral  coiling  round  her  arm, 

With  its  bright  scales  of  blue  and  green — 

Its  fangs  and  fiery  tongue  between. 

The  Indian  maids  shrunk  'neath  her  frown, 
The  boldest  warrior  gave  her  way ; 

E'en  Taiamita's  brow  fell  down 
Beneath  her  glance's  burning  ray. 

Around  the  Queen's  umbrageous  throne 

The  maids  their  perfumed  wreaths  had  strewn 
9 


DE  SOTO; 


Now  'mid  the  clustered  flowers  tbey  crawled 
With  trembliDg  form  and  soul  appalled. 
As  if  to  shun  the  withering  fire 
That  flashed  from  the  Sukia's  glance  of  ire. 
^'  Wo,  wo  to  ye — je  cringing  throng  ! 
Who  gather  in  the  dance  and  song; 
Wo,  wo  to  ye — ye  men  of  might. 
Who  glory  in  the  fearful  fight, 
Bare  your  strong  arms — howl  the  war  cry: 
There  are  dread  omens  in  the  sky; 
The  winged  winds  bear  fearful  sounds  ; 
The  panther  from  its  jungle  bounds. 
Eehold  !  he  comes  ; — his  foot  is  pressed 
Upon  our  mother  Earth's  warm  breast  ? 
His  arm  is  strong — his  breath  is  fire, 
And  ye  shall  fall  beneath  his  ire  ! 

Thus  Kabosilma  spoke.    Her  eye 

Glanced  wildly  o'er  the  eastern  sky. 

The  youthful  Queen  shrunk  back  affright, 

As  if  some  fiend  had  crossed  her  sight ; 

Then,  bracing  every  nerve,  she  rose, 

And  with  a  calm,  yet  proud  repose, 

Motioned  the  sorceress  away. 

But,  did  the  Sukia  maid  obey  ? 

Her  stately  form  grew  taller  still, 

Her  look  betrayed  determined  will! 

She  placed  her  foot  firm  on  the  ground, 

And,  with  defiant  look  around, 

Spake  to  the  Queen  : — Wo,  wo  to  ye. 

Dove-hearted  Queen  !    On  the  deep  sea 

Winged  monsters  float ;  they  cleave  the  wave, 

Their  ribs  spit  fire — and  warriors  brave 

Crowd  their  broad  backs  with  javelins  bright, 

And  banners  fluttering  in  the  light. 

The  pale-face  with  an  eagle-eye 

Has  stepped  upon  the  yellow  sand, 
His  banner  floating  in  the  sky. 

His  keen  knife  flashing  in  his  hand. 
Wo  to  the  red  man — wo  to  ye  ! 
The  last  limb  of  the  gnarled  tree. 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 

Thy  palaces  shall  fall  to  dust, 

Thy  towns  be  licked  up  by  red  fire, 

Thy  fields  laid  waste,  thy  cattle  cursed 
By  the  Great  Spirit's  hand  of  ire  !  " 

"  What  mummery's  this  ?  "  the  boy-chief  cried, 

While  springing  to  his  Princess'  side. 

"Back  to  your  den,  false  prophetess! 

Nor  with  sad  warnings  dare  address 

Our  noble  Queen.    Nay,  scowl — Behold ! 

This  arrow  with  its  tip  of  gold ; 

'Twas  winged  by  ye,  declaring  war : 

Then,  let  it  come — with  fiery  car 

And  bleeding  spear !    'Twill  soon  be  seen^^ 

How  many  braves  can  shield  the  Queen  !  " 

The  Sukia  sadly  eyed  the  youth, 

Then,  turning  to  the  braves,  she  said  ; — 
"Men  of  the  land  !  I've  told  the  truth  ; 

Ye  shall  be  marshalled  with  the  dead ! 
_Lo  ! — cast  your  eyes  across  the  stream  ; 
What  see  ye  there  ?    Is  it  a  dream  ? 
Fleet-footed  are  the  beasts  they  stride, 
Long  knives  are  glittering  by  their  side. 
Is  it  a  dream  ?    Wo — wo  to  ye ! 
The  pale-face  has  come  o'er  the  sea  I  " 

With  timid  gaze  the  Queen  looked  o'er 
The  waves  that  danced  upon  the  shore  ; 
And  on  the  beach,  far,  far  away 
Stood  the  armed  host  in  bright  array. 
Their  dark  plumes  nodded  to  the  breeze ; 
While  cavaliers,  with  grace  and  ease. 
Sat  on  their  steeds  and  urged  them  on, 
Their  trappings  flashing  in  the  sun. 
Then  brayed  the  trumpet  loud  and  clear, 
Then  rose  in  air  the  pennoned  spear, 
While  rending  shouts  came  on  the  air — 
"De  Soto,  hail !  "  rang  everywhere. 
To  Manasula  'twas  a  sight 

More  beautiful  than  rising  sun  \ 


196 


DE  SOTO; 


She  clapped  her  hands  in  wild  delight, 

And  bade  the  fleetest  warrior  run 
Down  to  the  margin  of  the  stream, 
And  welcome  those  who,  like  a  dream, 
Had  burst  upon  her  untaught  vision, 
Like  angel  hosts  from  realms  elysian. 

Hold,  reckless  Queen  !  "  a  chief  exclaimed  : 

'Twas  Talamita,  he  whose  arm 
Was  strong  in  fight,  whose  dark  eye  flamed 

The  fiercest  in  the  battle's  storm, 
"  Lives  there  a  brav  3  who  dares  to  say 
This  arm  ere  quivered  with  dismay  ? 
Let  him  come  forth,  and  we  will  try 
Who  is  strongest,  he  or  I  ? 
Take  heed,  the  snake  is  coiled  beneath 
The  flowers  that  make  the  glory- wreath  ; 
His  skin  is  beautiful ;  his  eyes 
Gleam  with  a  thousand  witcheries  ! 
The  war-path  will  be  red  with  blood 
If  the  pale-faces  pass  yon  flood. 
The  hungry  bird  will  sail  in  air. 
The  howling  wolf  leap  from  her  lair  ; 
And  many  a  maid  w^ill  mourn  the  day 
The  stranger's  footsteps  turned  this  way." 

The  Princess  bowed  with  haughty  grace, 
Scorn  veiled  the  smile  upon  her  face. 
"  Brave  chief  art  thou  to  counsel  fear ! 
Are  not  a  thousand  warriors  here  ? 
Speed,  Tuktawita,  to  the  strand 
And  greet  yon  noble  warrior  band. 
Tell  them  your  Queen  bids  thein  advance, 
And  welcome  them  with  feast  and  dance." 
Like  the  young  stag,  the  youth  ran  through 

The  forest  wild.    Soon  by  the  shore 
He  leaped  into  his  light  canoe^ 

And  skimmed  the  glassy  waters  o'er. 
Half  dazzled  by  the  gorgeous  sight 
Of  cavaliers  in  armor  bright, 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


And  prancing  steeds  with  riders  bold, 

Marshalled  under  a  cross  of  gold, 

He  paused  before  he  reached  the  shore, 

Eesting  upon  his  oaken  oar. 

A  smile  De  Soto's  features  spread, 

With  lordly  grace  he  bowed  his  head  ; 

Stretched  forth  his  hand  with  friendly  air. 

Which  said  the  chief  was  welcome  there. 

"  Pear  not,  young  chief;  we  seek  not  war  ; 

We  come  as  friends,"  De  Soto  said. 
The  youth  leaped  to  the  sandy  shore, 

And,  proudly  raising  up  his  head, 
Thus  answered : — Fear  1  never  knew  ! 

Ye  come  in  peace  ?    So  be  it  then. 
Our  young  Queen  bids  me  welcome  you, 

With  your  bright  band  of  fighting  men.'' 
"  Though  keen  our  trusty  sabre's  edge. 
We  greet  your  Queen  with  knightly  pledge 
lyjot  to  molest  her,  or  to  mar 
Her  people's  peace  with  sounds  of  war. 
We  are  the  red  man's  friends,  and  come 
To  add  enchantments  to  his  home." 
The  Spaniard  smiled  while  thus  he  spoke, 
And  then  the  brazen  trumpet  woke 
The  sleeping  echo,  while  the  gleam 
Of  arms  flashed  in  the  glassy  stream. 

Then  forth,  with  streamers  gaily  flying, 

Darted  the  Indian  war  canoes; 
Stout  arms  the  feathery  paddles  plying, 

And  unarmed  warriors  for  their  crews. 
A  gallant  barge,  all  decked  with  flowers, 

And  festooned  braids  of  evergreen. 
Bore  from  her  shady  woodland  bowers 

The  bright  and  youthful  Indian  Queen. 
Thrice  round  her  graceful  neck  a  chain 

Of  spotless  pearls  was  twined  ;  her  arms 
Showed  golden  bracelets,  every  vein 

Glowed  as  the  strangers  scanned  her  charms. 


DE  SOTO; 


Bach  plume  bowed  low  when,  like  a  doe, 

She  sprang  upon  the  yellow  shore  ; 
Her  eyes  all  fire,  her  cheeks  all  glow  ; 

A  being  made  to  love,  adore  ! 
The  wily  Spaniard  doffed  his  helm, 
And  hailed  the  Princess  of  the  realm; 
Such  beauty,  such  confiding  ease. 
Could  not  but  stagger,  if  not  please  ; 
So  timid,  yet  so  proudly  bold. 
He  thought  of  love,  but  more  of  gold  : 
Her  treasures,  thought  he,  where  are  they? 

Her  love  would  surely  tell  him  where ; 
The  dragon-guard  would  own  her  sway, 

And  hail  him  lord  and  master  there. 

She  smiled.    Her  teeth,  without  a  speck, 
Eivalled  the  pearls  around  her  neck, 
And,  with  a  motion  of  her  hand, 
Marshalled  her  warriors  on  the  strand. 
All,  save  the  stalwart  Talamita 
And  the  young  chieftain  Tuktawita, 
Bowed  homage  to  the  stranger  knight, 
His  barbed  steeds  and  men  of  might. 

We  greet  ye,  beauteous  forest  Queen  !  " 

Said  the  proud  Spaniard,  while  his  eye 
Beamed  love — although  its  glance  was  keen,  * 

And  his  lip  curled,  though  smilingly. 
"  No  hostile  march  is  ours.    AYe  come, 
A  band  of  pilgrims,  far  from  home, 
To  teach  your  people  peace,  not  war, 
To  barter  fabrics  for  your  ore. 
Our  King  is  mighty ;  on  the  sea 
His  ships  are  floating  fearlessly  ; 
While  on  the  land  no  monarch  boasts 
More  stoutly  armed  or  braver  hosts. 
Shall  we  be  friends,  or,  shall  I  speak 

And  bid  my  warriors  scour  the  land  ? 
Lo  !  we  are  strong  and  you  are  weak — 

IN^one  dare  refuse  when  I  command. 
'Tis  left  with  you,  sweet  Queen,  to  say 
If  peace  or  war — I  will  obey." 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


199 


Doabt,  for  a  while,  controlled  the  Queen- 
But,  with  a  smile,  soft  and  serene, 
She  loosened  from  her  neck  and  waist 
The  string  of  pearls,  and  gently  placed 
Them  in  De  Soto's  outstretched  hand ; 
Who,  bowing  with  demeanor  bland. 
Gave,  in  exchange,  a  costly  ring— 
A  token  from  his  master  King. 
Then  brayed  the  war-like  trumpet  out, 
While  cannon  joined  the  mighty  shout 
That  rent  the  air— the  steel-clad  band 
Filled  the  canoes  and  left  the  strand. 

In  a  deep  grot,  where  scarce  a  ray 

Of  the  bright  day-god  dared  intrude, 
Sat  a  stern  knight  in  trappings  gay, 

Beside  a  maid.    The  solitude 
Seemed  loved  by  both  ;  for,  had  a  gush 
Of  melody  come  from  the  thrush 
That  wandered  there,  it  would  have  broken 
The  spell  of  love— words  softly  spoken. 
The  wild  rose  and  the  eglantine 
Clung  to  the  sumac  and  the  vine ; 
And  clustering  grapes  hung  overhead 
While  hosts  of  flowers  their  odor  shed 
And  languished  o'er  their  mossy  bed. 
In  rich  profusion,  pendant,  hung 

The  golden  orange  and  the  lime; 
While,  peeping  from  green  leaves  among, 

The  luscious  fruits  of  southern  clime 
Bedecked  that  bower  and  filled  the  air 
With  odors  grateful,  rich  and  rare. 

««I  have  sipped  nectar  from  the  lips 
Of  proud  Oastilian  maids,  and  listened 

To  tender  songs— while  finger-tips 

Struck  lute-strings  soft,  and  dark  eyes  gli 

As  if  the  torch  of  love  had  fired 
The  soul,  and  bid  its  passion  gush 


DE  SOTO; 


Through  flashing  orbs  :    What  heart  desired 

Came  with  a  sigh  and  crimson  blush  \ 
Eut  never,  'till  I  touched  this  shore, 
Has  my  heart  learned  to  love — adore ! 
Sweet  Manasula  \  wert  thou  mine, 
How  bright  a  coronet  should  shine 
Upon  that  brow  \    Princes  should  be 
Humble  idolators  to  thee. 
Come — be  my  love  \  with  me  return 
To  where  the  Christian  altars  burn  \ 
Where  wealth  and  splendor  reign,  and  this 
Brief  life's  a  pilgrimage  of  bliss  I 

Thus  spake  the  Spanish  knight.    The  maid 
Listened,  and  pondered  alt  he  said. 
A  sigh,  half  smothered,  passed  her  lips  ; 
Perchance  there  was  a  faint  eclipse 
Of  the  soft  light  of  those  dark  eyes 
Within  whose  depths  dwelt  witcheries. 
Her  troubled  bosom  rose  and  fell 
Like  the  wide  ocean's  mighty  swell ; 
The  Sukia^s  warning  still  was  ringings 

Like  to  a  death-song  in  her  ears ; 
And,  quickly  from  his  warm  clasp  springing, 

Her  cheeks  suifused  with  burning  tears, 
She  said  : — The  fair  chief's  words  are  soft. 
And,  though  the  Indian  maid  has  offc 
Turned  her  ear  to  love's  whisperings. 
Yet  has  she  heard  the  winds  with  wings 
That  bore  a  spell,  speak  to  the  flower 
That  graced  a  lady's  gaudy  bower, 
Sweet  words  of  love  \  and  then  it  sung 
The  same  soft  song  to  the  bud  that  hung 
From  the  swamp  vine.    If  he  has  said 
The  truth,  then  shall  the  Indian  maid 
Press  to  her  heart  the  trembling  dove. 
And  teach  it  to  sing  the  song  of  love. 
Eut,  Manasula's  sway  is  wide  ; 
As  far  as  sweeps  the  ocean's  tide 
Her  power  extends,  and  men  of  might 
Stand  ready  marshalled  for  the  fight 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


201 


When  danger's  nigh,  ready  to  screen 
The  sacred  person  of  their  Queen. 
Yet,  Manasula  loves  ;  her  heart 
Asks  her  not,  Spaniard,  what  thou  art ; 
She  loves !    Be  thou  her  counsellor, 
Whether  it  be  in  peace  or  war." 

And  then  she  told  of  heaps  of  pearls 

Hidden  in  tombs  where  slept  the  dead  ; 
Of  gold  dust  where  the  brooklet  curls, 

And  gums  that  pleasant  odors  shed. 
The  wily  Spaniard  breathless  listened, 

And,  oh,  how  wildly  loved  he  then ! 
For,  to  the  tale  his  hawk-eye  glistened, 

And  his  heart  throbbed  again,  again. 

Beautiful  maid  !  I'll  dwell  with  thee 
In  thy  bright  land  beside  the  sea ; 
I'll  be  thy  counsellor,  and  teach 
Thy  people  how  that  point  to  reach 
Where  stands  the  Christian,  proudly  great 
Above  the  red  man's  low  estate. 
They'll  learn  our  arts ;  to  sow,  to  reap, 
To  plow  the  earth,  and  plow  the  deep  ; 
And  Manasula's  name  shall  sound 
In  every  realm  where  man  is  found  ; 
The  Princess  wise,  who  raised  her  race^ 
And  met  the  true  God  face  to  face." 

And  then  he  breathed  into  her  ear 
Words  that  to  maiden  hearts  are  dear; 
His  silvery  tongue  spoke  of  a  heart 
That  had  not  learned  the  flatterer's  art 
Whose  every  pulse  beat  for  the  one 
Who  in  her  native  forests  shone 
A  gem  of  pure  and  brilliant  ray, 
Bright  as  the  first-born  beam  of  day. 
The  Princess  listened,  every  sigh 
Seemed  music's  spirit  passing  by. 
And  every  word,  so  sweetly  breathed, 
Fell  on  the  air  with  rose-leaves  wreathed. 
9=^ 


202 


DE  SOTO; 


And,  who  will  doubt  but  that  gay  knight, 
So  heartless,  yet  so  fierce  in  fight, 
By  magic  won  the  Indian  maid, 

Who  wot  not  of  the  courtly  way 
Of  winning  hearts  by  snares  well  laid, 

Or  as  the  serpent  lures  his  prey? 
Love  is  all  potent.    On  that  spot 
Her  regal  pride  was  soon  forgot ; 
Visions  of  bliss  her  heart  delighted  : 
A  peaceful  home  and  love  requited 
Were  hers,  she  thought  not  of  the  cost ; 
The  people  and  their  Queen  were  lost ! 

A  dark  form  passed  before  the  grot, 
A  loud  laugh  rang  the  forest  through  : 

"  Wo,  wo  to  ye  !  dark  is  your  lot ; 

The  tree  has  fallen,  the  limb  must  rot ; 
Wo,  Manasula,  wo  to  you  !  " 

Up  sprang  De  Soto,  quick  as  light 

His  sabre  left  its  scabbard  bright. 

"  Hold  1  "  cried  the  Princess ;  "  shed  no  blood  ; 

This  is  her  home  of  solitude. 

'Tis  the  crazed  Sukia,  she  who  tells 

Our  destiny,  whose  mystic  spells 

Strike  e'en  the  bravest  brave  with  awe. 

Her  word  is  either  peace  or  war  ; 

And,  when  she  lifts  her  warning  hand, 

E'en  I  no  longer  can  command ! 

If  you  love  Manasula,  stay 

Your  arm  and  let  her  go  her  way." 

She  did  not  plead  in  vain  \  the  knight 
Eeturned  the  blade  to  the  scabbard  bright  \ 
The  wild  flash  of  the  Sukia's  glance. 

Her  piercing  voice,  the  doom-words  spoken, 
Awoke  him  from  his  blissful  trance. 
He  thought  of  treachery,  perchance 

Of  hidden  snare,  and  pledges  broken. 
"  Show  me,"  said  he,  with  a  grim  smile, 

"  Where  are  your  hidden  gems  and  gold ; 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


My  wrath  V\\  smother  for  awhile 
If  I  have  proof,  and  may  behold 
The  treasures  which,  you  say,  are  doomed 
With  your  dead  chiefs  to  be  entombed. 
Is  Manasula's  love  so  cold 
As  to  be  cheaper  than  her  gold? 
She  loves  me  not,  or  she  would  share 
With  him  she  loves,  her  treasures  rare." 
The  Princess  smiled,  and  quick  replied : 

I'll  prove  my  love.    A  faithful  guide 
Shall  lead  you,  Spaniard,  to  the  spot 
Where  our  dead  fathers'  bodies  rot ; 
Where  heaps  of  pearls  and  yellow  ore 
Were  placed  to  rest  forever  more. 
Oh,  if  such  dross  your  love  can  win. 
Take  all— be  mine  the  damning  sin  I 


Deep  in  a  dell  where  hooting  owls 

And  the  wild  mono  nightly  held 
Their  noisy  orgies  with  shrill  howls. 

The  Sukia  sat.    Her  bosom  swelled 
As  she  communed  with  stars,  that  seemed 
To  drink  the  light  that  from  them  streamed. 
Fagots  of  pitchy  pine  sent  high 
A  red  blaze  toward  the  spangled  sky, 
While  dark  smoke  curled  the  limbs  between 
Of  mangrove  and  lianes  green. 
The  tall  chief  Talamita  stood 
Watching  the  blaze,  whose  flash  of  blood 
Crimsoned  his  stately  form,  and  lit 
The  moody  eye  that  gazed  on  it. 
"  The  Sukia's  tongue  has  spoken  right; 

The  Spirit's  wrath  is  on  the  land ; 

•History  tells  us  of  the  Florldian  Princess's  Informing  De  Soto  that  he  coald 
search  the  tombs  in  the  town  and  neighboring  villages,  where  he  might  find  pearls 
enou  "h  to  load  all  the  horses  of  his  army.  As  the  tjtct  is  utterly  inconsistent  with 
all  our  notions  of  the  reverence  for  ancestry  which  is  the  striking  characteristic  of 
the  Indians,  we  should  have  strong  doubts  of  the  truth  of  the  statement,  were  it  not 
distinctly  asserted  in  both  the  narratives  of  the  Spaninh  expedition  The  tornbs  and 
temples  were  visited  by  the  Spaniards,  and.  according  to  accounts,  fourteen  bushels 
of  pearls  found.  One  writer  puts  the  amount  down  at  twenty-ftve  thousand  pounds 
The  cupidity  of  De  Soto  was  not  gratified ;  for  the  yellow  and  white  ore  turned  out 
to  be  copper  and  white  stone,  while  the  pearls  were  of  a  very  inferior  quality. 


204 


DE  SOTO; 


Our  braves  must  gather  in  their  might 

And  meet  the  pale-face  hand  to  hand. 
The  conk  shall  ring  from  peak  to  peak, 

And,  like  dead  leaves  before  the  storm, 
Our  warriors  the  plain  shall  seek, 

Our  swift  canoes  the  rivers  swarm. 
May  cloud-fires  blast  the  greedy  host 
Whose  footsteps  curse  our  peaceful  coast ; 
May  plague  and  famine  give  them  graves 
Beneath  the  feet  of  conquering  braves  ! 
But  who  is  he  in  yonder  path? 
Comes  he  in  friendship  or  in  wrath  ? 
*Tis  Tuktawita — he  who  sings 

Sweet  songs  in  Manasula's  ears; 
A  pretty  parrot  without  wings, 

A  lover  true,  whose  food  is  tears.** 

The  chieftain  of  the  bloody  hand 

Chuckled  the  while  the  Sukia  sighed. 
And  raised  aloft  a  burning  brand. 

Which  lit  the  valley  far  and  wide. 
With  folded  arms  and  sluggish  pace, 
His  eyes  all  fire,  all  flushed  his  face, 
The  boy-chief  reached  the  darksome  dell, 
And,  groaning,  on  the  damp  sod  fell. 
O'er  Kabosiima^s  features  spread 
A  beam  of  joy,  and  slow  she  said: 
"  Why  gnash  your  teeth  and  child-like  wail 

Hath  Manasula  been  unkind  ? 
Arise  !  and  breast  the  stormy  gale, 

Nor  whimper  like  a  stricken  hind. 
These  eyes  beheld  the  maiden  meek, 

Down  in  the  shady  grove  of  palms ; 
She  did  not  chide,  she  did  not  speak, 

But  nestled  in  the  stranger's  arms. 
Hath  Tuktawita  been  asleep  ? 
Let  his  proud  spirit  upward  leap 
And  crush  the  snake  that  coils  between 
His  love  and  her — our  fallen  Queen  1 '' 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA, 

Then  Talamita,  scoffing,  muttered— 
^' False  were  the  chieftain's  vows  ye  uttered, 
Faint-hearted  boy  !  why  lie  ye  there, 
Showing  the  stars  your  weak  despair? 
Yours  is  a  coward's  heart ;  you  sigh 
When  you  should  raise  the  battle-cry !  " 
"  Who  says  that  Tuktawita's  craven?" 

Asked  the  proud  youth,  as  up  he  sprung, 
Pushing  aside  his  tresses  raven, 

As  o'er  his  burning  brow  they  hung. 
«  He  ne'er  has  shamed  the  blood  that  flows, 

So  proudly  burning,  through  his  veii^  j 
As  the  great  mountain-furnace  glows,  ^ 

Or  flames  sweep  o'er  the  prairie  plains, 
So  swells  his  soul  for  mighty  deeds, 
So  roars  he  when  his  country  bleeds  ! 
Give  him  the  war-club— send  him  forth, 
And,  like  the  wild  wind  of  the  north, 
His  battle-cry  shall  echo  far. 
His  spear  gleam  on  the  field  of  war  !  " 

The  cloud  on  Talamita's  brow 

Faded  away  ;  a  grim  smile  spread, 
Like  moonlight  o'er  a  field  of  snow, 

His  purple  lips,  calm,  cold  and  dead. 
"  Son  of  a  mighty  sire  !  "  said  he, 
"The  winged  canoes  are  on  the  sea; 
The  footprints  of  the  white  man  trace 
A  bloody  path  to  our  disgrace. 
Yours  is  a  craven  heart — if  love 
For  a  false  Queen  can  stronger  prove 
Than  honor.    Let  your  voice  be  heard, 
Not  like  the  love-sick  singing  bird, 
Eut  calling  to  aid  the  chiefs  and  braves 
Who  stand  upon  their  fathers'  graves." 
"  The  grey-haired  chieftain  counsels  well," 

Replied  the  youth  ;     a  fire  I'll  light 
That  shall  o'er  plain  and  mountain  swell, 

And  gather  thousands  in  their  might." 


DE  SOTO; 


"  'Tis  said :  the  young  brave's  arm  is  strong, 
The  stars  no  more  shall  hear  his  song, 
Save  'mid  the  battle's  din— the  foe 
Shall  stagger  'neath  his  sturdy  blow." 
And,  as  he  spake,  the  Casique  drew 
A  glistening  knife,  concealed  from  view 
Beneath  his  belt.    "  Take  this/'  he  said ; 
"  There  is  no  danger  in  the  dead. 
Let  it  drink  blood,  its  edge  is  keen, — 
Either  the  Spaniard,  or  the  Queen." 

The  Queen  !  "    The  boy-chief  stood  aghast, 
And,  with  a  brow  all  overcast 
With  pending  thunders,  while  his  lip 
Curled  proudly,  and  with  deadly  grip 
He  held  the  knife  : — "  The  Queen,  our  Queen? 
Does  the  brave  Talamita  mean 
That  I  should  do  so  black  a  deed  ? 
Eather  let  Tuktawita  bleed  ! 
The  blade  thirsts  for  less  sacred  blood  ; 

Its  point  shall  reach  the  Spaniard's  heart, 
ISTot  Manasula's  :  that  pure  flood 

Shall  warmly  through  life's  channels  dart.'* 
Then  with  a  firm  and  stately  tread, 
He  moved  along  the  path  that  led 
Toward  the  town,  where  dance  and  song 
Were  joined  in  by  the  noisy  throng. 


CANTO  m. 

In  solid  squadrons  on  the  field, 

De  Soto's  mounted  warriors  stood  ; 
The  sun  glanced  on  each  helm  and  shield, 

And  kissed  the  cross  with  its  golden  flood. 
And  long  the  line  of  halberdiers 

That  stretched  from  river-bank  to  grove, 
With  corselets  and  bright  pennoned  spears, 

And  banners  waving  high  above. 
The  Indian  braves  stood  far  aloof. 

And  maidens  stared  all  eagerly  ; 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 

Death  travelled  with  the  charger's  hoof, 

While  fires  of  vengeance  lit  his  eye. 
In  a  chariot  by  bisons  drawn, 

Sat  Manasula,  meek  yet  proud  ; 
She  seemed  the  goddess  of  the  morn, 

While  smiling  on  the  surging  crowd. 
The  old,  the  young,  bowed  as  she  passed; 
Maids  in  her  pathway  roses  cast, 
While  ranks  of  braves  waved  boughs  of  green, 
And  shouted  loud,    Long  live  the  Queen  !  " 
De  Soto  on  his  gallant  steed 
Eode  to  the  royal  car  with  speed ; 
Doffed  his  plumed  cap  and  bowed  his  head, 
Like  a  true  courtier  born  and  bred. 
The  guide,  sweet  Queen,''  he  softly  said, 
To  lead  me  to  the  spot  where  sleep 
The  treasures  of  the  earth  and  deep." 
With  a  sad  smile  she  bowed,  and  pointed : 
"  Far,  far  inland  are  priests  anointed. 
Who  watch  our  temples  and  our  graves  ; 
Where  rest  Casiques,  and  chiefs,  and  braves ; 
Where  lies  the  wealth  your  soul  so  craves." 

Young  Tuktawita  stood  far  off, 

Sorrow  was  in  his  downcast  look  ; 
He  felt  his  wrath,  but  dared  not  scoff 

At  what  he  was  compelled  to  brook. 
The  Princess  motioned  him.    He  came, 

But  with  a  slow  and  haughty  pace, 
Like  one  encumbered  with  a  shame 

That  none  could  read  upon  his  face. 

Son  of  the  wise  and  brave  Chepec!  " 

Said  Manasula  to  the  youth  : 

Your  ears  are  quick,  your  eyes  awake  ; 

Your  tongue  speaks  nothing  but  the  truth. 
The  Spaniard  chieftain  has  been  told 
That  there  are  heaps  of  pearls  and  gold, 
Hidden  within  the  vaults  where  lie 
The  bones  of  our  proud  ancestry. 
Be  ye  his  guide,  show  him  the  spot 
Where  hoards  of  riches  lie  and  rot !  " 


DE  SOTO; 


"  I !  "  cried  the  youth,  his  dark  eyes  flashing 
His  brow  down-bent,  his  white  teeth  gnashir 
"  1  rob  my  father  !  "      Only  show 
The  treasures  that  he  covets  so. 
Your  Queen  commands,  the  cost  be  hers  ! 
Guide  the  chief  to  the  sepulchres  ; 
But,  harm  him  not,  if  you  would  prove 
Worthy  of  Manasula's  love." 

With  cloudy  brow  and  half-curled  lip 

The  youth  bowed  silently;  his  hand 
Thrice  had  the  knife  within  his  grip ; 

But  when  he  marked  the  Christian  band, 
With  bristling  arquebuse  and  spear, 
He  whispered  in  the  Princess'  ear  : 
"  Will  Manasula  love  the  brave 
Who  would  the  land  from  ruin  save  ?  " 
^«  Why  question  thus  ?  "  she  asked— distrust- 
In  her  quick  glance.      Be  he  accursed 
Who  would  not  raise  the  shrill  war-cry 
When  he  saw  danger  lurking  nigh." 
*'  So  be  it  then,"  the  youth  replied. 
"  Lo !  there  is  danger  by  thy  side. 
Shall  I  to  chains  and  lashes  stoop  ? 
Or  quick  send  forth  the  wild  war-whoop  ?  " 
^'  Peace,  reckless  boy  !  do  my  command  ; 
Manito  guards  our  native  land." 

Young  Tuktawita's  eye  flashed  flame ; 

But  with  a  mighty  throe,  he  kept 
His  anger  down.    The  blush  of  shame 

Over  his  noble  features  crept. 
Half  scorning,  half  in  awe  he  bowed, 
Then,  turning  to  the  Spaniard  proud, 
He  motioned  him  to  follow,  while 
His  lips  curled  with  a  scornful  smile. 
*^  Spaniard,"  cried  he,  "  our  Queen  is  wise; 

She  speaks,  and  we  her  words  obey  : 
I'll  show  you  where  the  treasure  lies, 

Under  our  temple — where  decay 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


The  bones  of  heroes  gone  to  rest ; 
Which,  until  now,  none  dared  molest/' 
Then,  turning  to  the  Queen,  he  said  : 

A  wail  of  woe  comes  from  the  dead  ! 
Calm  sleep  be  with  ye,  gentle  Queen  ; 
To-day  the  leaves  are  bright  and  green, 
To-morrow  comes  the  withering  frost, 
And  lo!  the  flower's  beauty's  lost ; 
The  cry  of  ^  woe  ! '  e'en  now  is  heard  ; 
It  frights  the  keen-eyed  mountain  bird  ; 
But  ye  are  deaf,  ye  will  not  hear ; 
And  ye  are  blind  when  signs  appear! " 

The  clarion  rang,  the  war-steed  neighed, 

And  brightly  shone  the  trooper's  blade, 

As  through  the  vale  the  squadron  rode, 

Passing  the  Sukia's  lone  abode. 

"  Wo,  wo  to  ye !  "  rang  through  the  glen, 

While  echo  sent  it  back  again  ; 

"  Wo  to  the  slave,  whose  recreant  soul 

Would  own  a  deadly  foe's  control !  " 

The  young  chief  heard  the  fearful  cry, 

But  heeded  not ;  his  plan  was  laid — ^ 
To  save  the  Queen,  the  Unight  must  die 

By  his  strong  arm  and  deadly  blade. 

With  measured  step  he  led  the  way, 

De  Soto  followed  with  his  band  ; 
They  marched  all  night,  they  marched  all  day. 

Until  they  reached  the  prairie  land. 
There,  amid  mounds  and  leafy  wood, 
An  old  and  spacious  temple  stood ; 
Silence  was  in  the  evening  air. 
In  the  deep  forest,  everywhere! 
It  was  the  home  of  Death,  where  slumbered 
The  bones  of  chiefs  and  braves  unnumbered. 
A  solemn  smile  spread  o'er  his  face 
As,  gazing  on  the  burial  place 
Of  warriors  bold,  De  Soto  stood 
And  revelled  in  bis  dream  of  blood. 


2iO 


DE  SOTO; 


Before  him  passed  in  grim  review, 

Chiefs  of  renown,  all  armed  for  fight; 
Some  the  sharp-pointed  javelin  threw, 

Some  winged  the  feathered  arrow's  flight. 
This  ghostly  army  passed  along, 

And  glaring  eyes  shone  through  the  mist  ; 
While  in  the  tall  grass  rang  the  song: 

"  Wo,  wo  to  ye !  "    The  moonbeams  kissed 
The  silent  tombs  and  temples  broad, 
While  resting  on  the  dewy  sward. 
The  cavaliers  sought  rest,  and  dreamed 
Of  treasures  won  when  morning  beamed. 

In  the  dark  tomb,  amid  the  dead, 

De  Soto  stood.    All  cold  and  damp 
The  heavy  air ;  the  dim  rays  shed 

By  the  red  flame  of  brazen  lamp, 
Pell  on  the  frames  of  giant  men, 

Now  mouldy,  crumbling  into  dust ; 
And  rusty  barbs  that  glittered  when 
*     The  war-cry  rang  through  wood  and  glen. 

And  strong  arms  made  the  homeward  thrust. 
"  Where  are  the  treasures,  where  the  gold, 

The  heaps  of  pearls?    demanded  he 
Of  Tuktawita,  who,  with  cold 

And  stolid  mien,  stood  silently 
Gazing  upon  the  sordid  Knight, 
Keeping  the  keen  knife  from  his  sight. 

In  yonder  deep  recess,  where  day 
Has  never  sent  its  cheering  ray. 
The  Christian  chief  will  find  the  dross 
His  soul  so  craves.    He  says  the  Cross 
Gives  wealth  and  happiness  to  all  ; 
Then,  why  disturb  the  dead,  and  crawl 
Amid  dry  bones  to  win  the  toys 
That  please  the  eyes  of  timid  boys  ?  " 
"A  sage  adviser,  thou  young  brave! 
Why  give  thy  treasures  to  the  grave  ? 
We  do  not  rob,  we  only  save. 
Forward  and  show  me  where  they  lie!  " 
"Sooner  will  Tuktawita  die  ; 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


Or  ye,  proud  tyrant !    Hark !  the  voice 

Of  my  brave  sire  in  paradise 

Cries  out  aloud  in  thunder-tones : 

*  Baptize  with  blood  our  sleeping  bones  ! 

Quick  as  a  lightning  shaft,  the  knife 
Flashed  in  a  torch's  crimson  light ; 
It  reached  its  mark,  but  not  the  life  ^ 

It  aimed  to  take.    A  breast-plate  bright 
Beneath  De  Soto's  garb  withstood 
The  blade  that  sought  to  drink  his  blood. 
The  Spaniard  seized  the  Indian's  arm, 
And,  with  a  smile,  cold,  scornful,  calm, 
Huried  it  away.       Misguided  boy. 
Would  you  your  treacherous  race  destroy 
When  steel  meets  steel  it  should  be  on 
The  open  field,  when  the  bright  sun 
Beholds  the  contest  lost  or  won  ! 
ril  show  you  how  a  Spanish  Knight 

Seeks  his  revenge.    Go,  you  are  free  ; 
'Tis  thus  your  treachery  I  requite  : 
Live  through  a  life  of  infamy !  " 

The  youth  quailed  not,  but  grimly  smiled 
As  the  proud  Spaniard  waved  his  hand. 
"A  serpent  round  our  Queen  has  coiled. 

Its  poisonous  breath  spreads  o'er  the  land. 
I  would  have  crushed  it,  but  my  arm 
Was  weak  and  could  not  do  it  harm. 
Spaniard !  the  Indian  asks  not  life  ; 
He  still  knows  how  to  use  the  knife. 
Lo  !  yonder,  'neath  a  heap  of  stones, 
Lie,  undefiled,  my  father's  bones ; 
His  spirit  looks  upon  me  now, 
A  frown  is  on  his  mighty  brow ; 
I  hear  his  groan— he  chides  his  son — 
Tells  him  to  end  what  is  begun." 
Then,  with  a  yell  whose  echo  died 

Far  in  the  vaults,  the  blade  he  thrust 
Into  his  heart— the  crimson  tide 
Of  life  mixed  with  his  father's  dust. 


212 

r>E  SOTO; 


A  langh  rang  through  the  foetid  air; 
And  then  a  wild  shriek  of  despair 
Swel  ed  wildly  from  the  dark  recess, 
Breaking  the  deathlike  loneliness  : 

wo,  iiabosilma,  wo  to  ye  ! 

Your  soul  is  dark  as  stormy  night  • 
A  star  has  dropped  into  the  sea,  ' 

^o  more  shall  earth  smile  in  its  light." 
It  was  the  Sukia  maid.    She  leapt 

Jjike  a  mad  she-wolf  toward  her  youn^ 
When  danger's  nigh  ;  and  long  she  weptt 

And  frantic  to  the  dead  youth  clung. 

Twas  1  proud  chief,  that  urged  the  deed, 
rm,  h     ^  cursed  race, 

lhat  I  would  laugh  to  see  you  bleed, 
And  die  all  covered  with  disgrace  !  " 

"  Ha !  is  it  so  ?  "  the  Spaniard  cried, 
Ihen  sleep  ye  by  your  lover's  side. 
1  wo  hearts  so  true  no  power  should  sever  • 
-Be  ye  embalmed  in  bliss  forever." 

And  ^TlT^r^'^'^'Tf^        *^^^«»re  found, 
And  wealth  exhumed  from  every  mound 
Joy  lit  the  Spaniard's  eye ;  his  greed 
Was  satisfied,  and  every  steed 
Bore  a  full  burden  of  the  plunder, 

;t  or  which  the  robbers  burst  asunder 
i.  he  portals  of  the  silent  tomb 

And  mocked  the  dead  within  its  womb. 

Ihe  vault  where  lay  the  Sukia  maid, 
-By  Tuktawita's  bleeding  form 

Was  closed  with  mattock,  bar  and  spade, 

And  there  they  sleep  in  endless  shade, 

or  storm. 

Flushed  with  success,  the  troops  applied 
Ihe  flaming  torch  to  the  temple  wide;* 

descr&Sfa'i'if  selS^'t^'  hLvl'he^ert'h/?,'"","'''' ^^"^^  treasure,  merits  a 
water-tlgw.  Over  t.e  '^^l^T^'^l'^^^.^iX^^^^A^si^^ 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA.  213 

And  while  the  night  turned  into  day, 
The  holy  priests  fled  far  away, 
Eaising  the  war-cry  through  the  land, 
Gathering  many  a  dauntless  band; 
Until  a  mighty  mass  of  braves 
Crowded  around  their  fathers'  graves, 
And  howling  with  despair  and  rage, 
Yowed  vengeance  for  the  sacrilege. 

In  a  deep  grove  of  oak  and  palm, 

Where  climbed  the  grape,  and  fig-trees  grew, 
Where  every  breeze  was  charged  with  balm, 

And  every  flower  held  honey-dew. 
Sat  Manasula,  lone  and  sad, 

Counting  the  leaves  of  a  faded  rose. 
The  music  of  the  brook  was  glad. 

O'er  all  the  scene  dwelt  calm  repose  ; 
The  blackbird  and  the  thrush  sang  on. 

The  noisy  parrot  mocked  her  woe ; 
While  slowly  sank  the  crimson  sun 

Behind  a  cloud  of  golden  glow. 
No  warriors  gathered  round  her  now, 

No  maidens  wreathed  her  hair  with  flowers; 
Care  and  remorse  sat  on  her  brow. 

And  solitude  dwelt  in  her  bowers. 
She'd  bartered  all  for  love's  brief  dream, 
She'd  revelled  in  his  transient  beam, 
Pressed  the  sweet  chalice  to  her  lips, 
^nd — like  the  careless  bee  that  sips 
The  nectar  from  the  laurel  flower- 
All  heedless  of  its  deadly  power. 

"  Why  droop  ye,  gentle  Queen  ?    Why  fill 
The  twilight  air  with  sighs  and  groans? 


214 


DE  SOTO; 


The  valley  flowers  their  sweets  distil, 

While  the  young  Princess  weeps  and  moans/ 
Ihus  spake  De  Soto,  whose  tall  form 

Stood  suddenly  before  the  maid ; 
His  lips  wore  smiles,  his  brow  was' calm, 

nf  J^^"*^.®^"^  round  his  features  played' 
'/The  traitor  chief  whose  trembling  band 
Have  dared  to  scorn  your  high  command 
Has  been  compelled  to  flee  before  ' 
The  onset  of  my  gallant  corps. 
We've  given  to  flames  his  towns,  and  razed 
His  temples,    ^y,  you  look  amazed. 
-Did  you  not  clothe  me  with  the  power 

To  crush  out  treason  from  the  land  ? 
I  armed  in  danger's  darksome  hour, 

And  met  the  traitor  hand  to  hand. 
The  haughty  Talamita's  fled, 
And  Tuktawita  with  the  dead 
Sleeps  soundly  in  the  cold  caress 
Of  the  ill-boding  Prophetess.'* 

"  Tis  done,  De  Soto— but  the  wrath 

Of  Him  whose  eye  is  on  us  all, 
Whose  curse  comes  in  the  thunder-path, 

On  me,  the  guilty,  soon  to  fall. 
I  hear  my  people's  cries,— I  see 
HT^^^  fi^^y  tongues  that  lap  the  skies; 
My  father's  ghost  reproaches  me, 

And  blasts  me  with  his  wrathful  eyes. 
O  chief,  how  madly  I  have  loved. 
This  hellish  sacrifice  has  proved! 
What  cave  shall  Manasula  seek 
To  hide  the  blushes  on  her  cheek  ? 
The  curses  of  her  people  rest, 
Like  storm-clouds  on  a  mountain's  crest 
Upon  her  head.    Woe,  woe!  the  wail  ' 
Still  swells  upon  the  wingM  gale." 
She  wept,  and  wildly  tore  her  hair, 
Scattering  the  flowers  that  pouted  there 
The  Spaniard  smiled,  half  scornfully, 
And  twirled  his  gauntlet  with  good  grace 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 

He  thus  advanced  the  robber's  plea. 
While  a  slight  flush  suffused  his  taee : 

«  Under  the  banner  of  the  Cross, 

And  guided  by  the  hand  of  God, 
We  Christians  never  count  the  loss, 

When  once  we  buckle  on  the  sword. 
A  righteous  mission,  Queen,  is  ours : 

To  teach  our  holy  faith  to  those 
Who  bow  unto  infernal  powers, 

And  God's  supreme  decrees  oppose. 
We've  taken  the  treasures.    They  were  found 
Buried  and  useless  under  ground  ;  ^ 
To  you  they're  nought— then  why  complain 
When  you  lose  nothing,  while  we  gam  ? 
I  would  have  saved  the  youth,  whose  knite 
Was  madly  raised  against  my  life; 
But  his  own  hand,  on  murder  bent, 
Meted  to  him  his  punishment. 
The  croaking  witch,  whose  wail  of  wo 
Annoyed  your  royal  highness  so. 
Has  shared  her  stripling  lover's  doom, 
And  slumbers  with  him  in  the  tomb. 
Where  are  the  traitors— where  are  they 
Who  dared  to  march  in  armed  array 
Against  their  Queen  ?    Low  in  the  dust 
They  met  a  doom  righteous  and  just. 
Ere  the  first  beam  of  morning's  sun 
Illumes  the  eastern  horizon. 
My  army  shall  be  on  its  way 
To  reap  new  victories,  and  to  slay 
Where'er  opposed.    I  cannot  leave 

So  rich  a  prize  as  you  behind  ; 
Nor  would  I  have  your  young  heart  grieve, 

Or  deem  the  one  it  owns  unkind. 
Your  royal  presence  will  provide 

My  men  with  food  ;  your  form  will  screen 
My  person.    While  you're  by  my  side. 
E'en  traitors  will  respect  the  Queen. 
Then  up!  prepare!  the  trumpet's  blast 
Shall  summon  all  my  warriors  bold ; 


216 


DE  SOTO; 


Weep  not,  the  time  for  tears  is  past, 
We'll  fight  your  battles  for  your  gold." 

With  a  quick  bound  the  Queen  arose, 

And  steadily  she  eyed  the  knight ; 
Her  bosom  heaved  with  mighty  throes, 

While  o'er  her  brow  hung  shades  of  night. 
"  False  Spaniard  !  on  your  lips  the  lie 

Hangs  like  a  drop  of  poisoned  dew ; 
There  is  falsehood  in  your  every  sigh  ; 

The  love  you  swore,  you  never  knew. 
Think  j^ou  that  Manasula's  feet 

Will  tread  the  path  that  robbers  tread  ? 
Or,  like  a  sick  lamb,  whine  and  bleat 

Because  a  cloud  hangs  o'er  her  head  ? 
I've  fed  your  braves,  I've  stooped  to  speak 
Words  that  have  brought  shame  on  my  cheek 
And  I  have  listened  while  you  spoke 
Of  promises  you  vilely  broke  ; 
Listened — to  me  'twas  sweet  and  new, 
For  then  I  thought  it  all  was  true. 
Go  !  but  I  follow  not.  Alone 
With  the  sad  sea-waves  will  I  moan." 

A  smile  sardonic  spread  the  mouth 

Of  the  proud  knight.    He  slowly  raised 
His  arm  ;  and,  pointing  to  the  south, 

Where  a  long  line  of  camp-fires  blazed. 
He  said  :  "Behold,  weak  Queen,  a  host 
Of  hungry  wolves,  whose  only  boast 
Is  of  their  plunder.    Who  so  bold 
As  to  oppose  them,  when  'tis  gold 
They  seek?    Be  wise  and  yield,  or  chains 
May  gall  ye  sorely  for  your  pains." 

''A  slave  1  a  captive !  scourged  by  whips  ! 

Oh,  for  a  curse  to  pass  my  lips ! 

Whose  withering  breath  may  blast  your  form 

Ere  your  black  heart  can  plot  more  harm." 

Despairing  then  she  glanced  around, 

No  brave  aj)peared,  no  warlike  sound 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


Waked  sleeping  echo  ;  all  was  still, 
Save  the  soft  murmur  of  the  rilL 
No  friends,  no  succor,  none  to  shield, 
What  could  the  lone  one  do  but  yield  ? 
Like  a  bayed  deer,  wounded  and  faint, 

While  hope  was  left,  she  summoned  tears  5 
But,  what  availed  her  touching  plaint? 

It  fell  upon  unheeding  ears. 

Leave  me  to  die  where  rest  the  bones 

Of  those  who  watched  my  childhood's  days; 
To  fill  the  air  with  sighs  and  groans, 

And  I  will  speak  of  you  with  praise. 
Take  all,  but  let  my  people  live, 

While  I  remain  in  solitude 
Oh,  Spaniard,  had  I  more  to  give, 

I'd  give  it  freely  for  their  good," 

Humbly  she  pleaded  at  his  feet, 

But,  like  a  rock,  unmoved  he  stood, 
And  gloated  o'er  a  wreck  complete. 

Like  a  gaunt  vulture  o'er  his  food. 
At  morning's  dawn  the  clarion  rang, 
And,  all  around,  the  martial  clang 
Was  heard.    The  restive  charger  neighed, 
The  trooper  drew  his  battle  blade, 
And  soon  along  the  winding  way 
The  army  marohed  in  bright  array. 
Frighting  the  eagle,  whose  wild  shriek 
Bang  loudly  from  the  lofty  peak. 
The  captive  Queen,  with  bleeding  feet, 
Drenched  by  the  rain,  scorched  by  the  heat, 
Followed  the  train  with  sluggish  pace, 
Her  shame  depicted  in  her  face. 
Two  faithful  maids  clung  to  her  still. 
Shared  her  deep  grief,  obeyed  her  will, 
But  not  one  warrior's  arm  was  seen 
With  arrow  set  to  save  the  Queen. 
Affrighted  fled  the  awe-struck  crowd, 
While  onward  rushing,  like  a  cloud 
Before  the  gale,  the  Spaniards  came, 
With  iron  dragons  spitting  flame. 
10 


218 


DE  SOTO; 


The  banner  of  the  cross  waved  high, 

And  holy  priests  urged  on  the  host; 
Eed  flames  leapt  up  toward  the  sky, 

'Till  in  its  depths  their  flash  was  lost. 
Town  after  town  was  swept  away, 
Teraples  were  razed  to  earth  ;  dismay 
INTumbed  the  strong  arm,  the  warriors  fled 
To  mountain  holds  with  fear  and  dread. 
There,  amid  rocks  and  hidden  caves, 
Gathered  a  thousand  Indian  braves, 
Their  leader  Talamita,  he 
Who  first  resisted  tyranny. 
Though  vanquished,  still  his  arm  was  strong 
And  ready  to  avenge  the  wrong. 
Standing  before  ttie  council  fire. 
Where  gathered  youth  and  ancient  sire. 
Thus  spake  he  to  the  listening  braves : 
"Where  are  our  fathers'  honored  graves?  , 
Where  are  our  temples,  where  our  priests. 
Our  altars  and  our  sacred  feasts  ? 
Beneath  the  white  man's  feet  in  ashes, 

Or  scattered  like  the  forest  leaves 
When  mad  winds  blow  and  lightning  flashes. 

Crushed  by  the  power  of  foreign  thieves  I 
Our  Queen  in  bondage  licks  the  earth, 

Our  wives  and  daughters  cry  with  fear. 
While  the  foul  Spaniard  laughs  in  mirth 

At  the  w^hipped  cravens  gathered  here. 
Awake,  ye  braves  !  the  war-whoop  raise! 
Wept  our  brave  sires  in  by-gone  days 
When  storm-clouds  gathered  in  the  sky. 
And  flame  shot  from  the  Spirit's  eye? 
Go  forth,  and  like  the  mighty  wind 
That  leaves  all  desolate  behind, 
Drive  the  cursed  pale-face  from  the  land 
With  vengeful  blade  and  bloody  hand  ! 
The  she-wolf  will  defend  her  den — 
And  will  not  ye,  who  seem  as  men  ? 
Who's  here  so  faint  and  craven-hearted 

As  to  bow  down  and  kiss  the  rod  ? 


OR,  THE  CONQUEST  OF  FLORIDA. 


Let  him  from  home  for  aye  be  parted, 

Accursed  of  man,  accursed  of  God  ! 
Ye  who  are  strong  and  have  no  fear, 
Whose  stout  right  arm  can  wield  a  spear, 
Gather  around  me  in  your  might 
Within  the  shadow  of  the  night, 
And  we  will  strike  one  stunning  blow 
That  shall  appal  the  vaunting  foe !  " 

A  wild  shout  rang  from  rock  to  rock, 

And,  like  an  avalanche,  down  poured 
The  Indian  host.    Severe  the  shock: 

The  foe  with  arquebuse  and  sword 
Met  the  assault ;  but,  closely  pressed, 

Their  ranks  gave  way,  'till,  in  full  flight, 
They  scoured  the  plain.    De  Soto's  crest 

Towered  throughout  the  savage  fight ; 
His  sturdy  arm  dealt  many  a  blow. 
Each  struck  an  Indian  warrior  low. 

Stand,  stand  your  ground  !  "  he  loudly  cried. 

Charge  !  horsemen,  charge  !  "  Soon  changed  the  tide  ; 
Each  trooper  turned  his  charger's  head, 
And  then,  in  turn,  the  Indians  fled. 
Crushed  'neath  the  hoofs  they  prostrate  lay, 
Watched  by  the  hungry  birds  of  prey. 
Some  begged  for  mercy,  but  were  slain ; 
Others  fled  howling  o'er  the  plain  ; 
While  in  the  river,  many  a  brave 
Sought  and  soon  found  a  liquid  grave. 

Old  Talamita  tried  in  vain 

To  turn  his  flying  bands  again  ; 

Gored  by  the  foemen's  blades,  he  stood 

A  barrier  of  flesh  and  blood. 

With  flashing  eyes  fixed  on  the  foe, 

And  foot  firm  planted  in  the  sod. 
His  arm  resisted  every  blow. 

While  'gainst  the  temple  of  his  god 
His  giant  back  he  leant,  and  cursed 
The  attacking  foe  at  every  thrust. 


220 


DE  SOTO. 


A  wild  cry,  hark !  the  roofs  on  fire ! 

Soldiers  rush  forth  with  flaming  brands ; 
And  loudly  from  the  burning  pyre 
Shrill  voices  ring,  higher  and  higher, 

While  men  exult  with  bloody  hands, 
And  shout  in  mockery :  "  Lo,  the  Queen  I 

With  virgins  chaste  and  canting  priests, 
Dances  beyond  yon  fiery  screen : 

Such  ever  be  their  sacred  feasts  I  " 
Up  the  blue  vault  of  heaven  leap 

The  unloosed  tongues  of  crimson  flame; 
From  star  to  star  they  seem  to  sweep, 

Tinging  the  moon  with  blush  of  shame. 
In  the  flames'  womb  the  wailing  dies ; 

Long  live  the  Queen !  "  the  Spaniard  cries ; 
While,  crashing,  fall  the  heavy  beams, 
And  molten  lead  rolls  down  in  streams. 
Myriads  of  sparks  then  fill  the  air, 
And  flakes  lie  everywhere  ; 
Then  all  is  still,  save  the  deep  sigh 
The  night  wind  heaves  while  passing  by. 

Deep  'neath  the  smouldering  ruins  lay 
The  bones  of  Manasula,  Queen 

Of  the  bright  land  of  Florida. 

Where  now  the  vernal  grass  is  green, 
A  mound,  o'ergrown  by  grass,  is  seen ; 

There  sleeps  the  chief,  brave  Talamita, 

The  wise  Casique,  the  fearless  fighter, 

Who  fell  beneath  De  Soto's  blow, 

Facing  his  nation's  hated  foe. 


ST,  CECILIA  AND  THE  ANGEL. 


221 


ST.  CECILIA  AND  THE  ANGEL. 

The  tradition  concerning  St.  Cecilia,  the  f .^.^tfaTB"^^^^^^^^ 
that  it  was  on  account  of  ber  exce  lerce  in  the  ^ly/^^.  J^,*.  5  her  voice: 

aneel ;  that  he  was  drawn  from  his  celestial  abode  by  the  sweetness  stv  Jd  the 
Snd  that  the  transcendency  of  her  instrumental  powers  caused  her  to  be  styled  the 
patron  saint  of  music  and  musicians. 

She  sat  beside  her  lyre,  which  slept 

As  if  its  melody  were  dead  ; 
The  zephyrs  lingered  round,  or  crept 

Fondly  among  the  strings,  and  shed 
Their  dewy  tears  upon  them  ;  while 
The  listening  stars  did  wink  and  smile 
Upon  the  waters  sunk  to  rest, 
With  heaven  reflected  from  their  breast. 

Nature  was  hushed,  as  if 'twere  listening 
To  catch  some  wind-harp's  infant  note ; 

E'en  the  stars  whispered  not ;  but  glistening 
In  the  blue  ocean  where  they  float, 

Kissed  the  dewed  leaf,  the  stilly  sea, 

And  hushed  their  mystic  melody ; 

For  there  was  music  yet  to  rise, 

Sweeter  than  Nature's  minstrelsies. 

She  touched  the  breathing  lyre,  like  one 
Whose  soul  hung  on  her  finger-tips ; 

And  music  came:  each  melting  tone 

Was  like  notes  breathed  from  seraph  lips. 

Softly,  like  dew-fall  on  the  sea. 

Arose  the  plaintive  melody ; 

It  soared  to  heaven,  and  never  were 

More  blissful  notes  winged  through  the  air. 

What  form  is  that,  which,  robed  in  light. 
Comes  from  the  realm  of  stars  ?    Its  wings 

Shed  diamonds  on  the  sea,  and  night 
Shrinks  from  the  silvery  flame  it  brings. 


ST.  CECILIA  AND  THE  ANGEL. 


Swift  through  the  purple  air  it  bounds, 
Lured  by  the  lyre's  enchanting  sounds: 
A  spirit  of  celestial  birth, 
By  music's  spell  brought  down  to  earth. 

Lingering  in  rapture  o'er  the  lyre^ 

(Like  a  gay  humbird  drawing  sweets 
Prom  honeysuckles)  while  each  wire 

Speaks  to  the  hand  it  trembling  meets 
Child  of  the  skies!  why  dost  thou  come, 
Thus,  smiling,  from  thy  heavenly  home  ? 
Is  there  not  in  yon  starry  girth, 
A  lyre  more  rich  than  one  of  earth  ? 

The  angel  knelt,  for  every  strain 

Called  to  devotion  ;  and  a  choir 
Of  seraphims  replied  again 

To  the  sweet  music  of  the  lyre. 
Oh !  there  are  spells  that  bind  the  heart, 
But  none  like  music  can  impart 
Such  soft  delights ;  for  from  the  skies 
It  drew  its  soothing  witcheries. 

Then  spake  the  heaven-born  one — his  lip 
Glowed  like  twin  rubies  in  the  sun; 

^olus,  through  his  pinion-tips, 
Made  melody  of  heavenly  tone : — 

"  I  left  the  realm  of  stars  to  kneel 

To  song's  divinity  ;  to  feel 

As  angels  feel,  when  spheres  reply 

To  heaven's  eternal  melody. 

"  Beautiful  one  !  whose  magic  strains 

Can  lure  an  angel  from  the  skies, 
To  nestle  near  thee  ;  as  complains 

The  dove  to  its  young  mate,  its  eyes 
Beaming  with  soul,  so,  sweet,  do  I 
Crouch  at  thy  feet  and  ask  thee  why 
Thou  art  of  earth?    Come  be  my  love, 
And  teach  seraphic  choirs  above. 


ST.  CECILIA  AND  THE  ANGEL, 


"A  spirit-song  comes  on  the  wings 
Of  the  soft  south  wind,  as  o'er  flowers 

It  creeps  and  kisses,  while  it  sings 
Its  lullaby  around  Love's  bowers. 

So  thy  sweet  song  doth  swell  at  night, 

And  woo  the  stars  from  realms  of  light ; 

They  stoop  and  wink,  and  fondly  kiss 

The  dew  upon  thy  lip  of  bliss. 

God's  wrath  is  in  the  piping  gale 
That  fells  to  earth  the  knotty  tree, 
Or  rends  to  shreds  the  shivering  sail 
On  wave-tossed  ships  upon  the  sea; 
But  thou  canst  lull  the  storm  to  rest, 
The  tempest  of  the  anguished  breast, 
Soothing  the  maddened  brain  at  will, 
And  whispering  to  the  soul,  '  Be  still  I ' 

<c  The  winged  winds  play  with  the  reeds 

That  gently  bend  as  they  pass  by; 
And  Melancholy  sadly  pleads 

In  strains  between  a  groan  and  sigh. 
But  they  have  hushed  their  plaintive  notes, 
For  thy  soft  music  upward  floats; 
And  mute  is  Nature's  every  breath. 
Like  silence  lulled  to  sleep  by  death. 

Be  sainted  then,  sweet  child  of  song! 

Our  type  on  earth,  while  music's  spell 
Can  charm  high  heaven's  undying  throng, 
And  through  its  diamond  portals  swell. 
When  Death  shall  claim  thee  for  his  bride, 
Be  one  of  us — in  heaven  abide  ; 
And  give  to  higher  spheres  the  bliss  ^ 
That  makes  too  much  a  heaven  of  this." 

And  then,  with  snowy  wings  outspread, 
And  hair  of  amber  hue  left  free 

To  dally  with  the  sunbeams  red 

That  tinged  the  mountains  and  the  sea, 


ST.  CECILIA  AND  THE  ANGEL. 


The  angel  pose^  and  soaring  higb^ 
Melted  away  into  the  skj  • 
While  to  the  kneeling  maid  was  given 
The  power  to  make  on  earth  a  heaven » 

The  birds  ponred  out  their  love  in  song^ 
The  forest  murmured  mystic  lays ; 

The  brooklet,  as  it  purled  along^ 
Sent  up  its  liquid  strain  of  praise  ; 

And  wavelets  sang  for  evermore^ 

And  danced  high  up  the  pebbly  shore ; 

While  amorous  zephyrs  whispered  love 

On  fiowery  plain^  in  leafy  grove. 

Music,  the  universal  tongue^ 

Euled  everywhere — in  court  or  cot ; 
'Twas  in  the  lay  the  wild  wind  sung, 

'Twas  in  the  woods— where  was  it  not  ? 
E'en  the  lone  sea-shell  on  the  shore 
Murmurs  its.  spirit-song  of  yore  • 
And  laughing  stars  in  boundless  spheres 
Eoll  out  the  tones  of  earth's  young  years. 

And  there  is  music  in  the  heart 

When  pleasant  memories  arise ; 
*Tis  J^^ature^s  boon ;  no  studied  art 
Can  wake  the  soul-born  melodies 
That  linger  round  the  whispered  love 
From  lips  that  barely  seem  to  move, 
Or  sighs  that  fall  as  tremblingly 
As  snowflakes  dropping  on  the  sea. 

When  ej^es  drink  in  each  other's  light. 

And  speak,  though  not  a  word  they  say ; 
When  passion  draws  the  heart-strings  tight^ 

Love's  dimpled  fingers  on  them  play; 
And  there  is  music  soft  and  sweet, 
Like  the  blessed  strains  that  angels  greet, 
When  harps  are  swept  by  seraph  hand^ 
And  fill  with  love  the  spirit-land. 


ST,  CECILIA  AND  THE  ANGEL. 


The  purling  brook  that  rolls  along, 

All  joyously  o'er  sands  of  gold, 
Gives  to  the  rocks  a  merry  song — 

The  same  it  sung  in  days  of  old  ; 
The  insect,  with  its  sapphire  wings, 
Skims  o'er  the  flowery  lea  and  sings ; 
And  grot  and  vale  and  forest  groan, 
When  wild  winds  swell  their  hollow  tone. 

In  the  lone  dell  where  solitude 

Broods  over  hoary  rocks  and  caves, 
See,  from  the  dark  and  tangled  wood 

The  swift  stag  leaps,  and  proudly  braves 
The  eager  hounds.    A  single  note 
From  the  shrill  horn  will  start  afloat 
Myriads  of  strains,  while  shouting  elves 
Fantastic  dance  on  rocky  shelves. 

The  mystic  maid,  whose  airy  tongue 

Never  was  known  to  tell  a  lie, 
Awakes — repeats  the  hunter's  song, 

Till,  faint  and  fainter,  in  a  sigh 
It  perishes  in  some  far  nook. 
Where  e'en  the  slowly  creeping  brook 
Sings  not  its  song;  where  silence  reigns, 
Till  echo  wakes  sweet  music's  strains. 

When,  far  away  from  friends  and  home. 
Some  well-remembered  song  is  heard. 
What  heavenly  blisses  with  it  come, 

What  dreams  of  home— that  holy  word  ! 
It  comes  like  manna  on  the  soul 
That  longs  to  reach  the  happy  goal, 
Where  loved  one's  gather  round  the  hearth 
And  bless  the  dearest  spot  on  earth. 

It  came  from  chaos,  when  God  spake 
His  loud  decree  :     Let  there  be  light ! 

And  still  its  harmonies  awake 
The  spirit  minstrels  of  the  night. 


226 ,  THE  MA  GIC  BEL  T. 

All  Nature  owns  its  wondrous  power; 
It  rules  the  palace,  cottage,  bower ; 
'Tis  in  the  sea,  'tis  in  the  air, 
Its  soothing  spell  is  everywhere! 


THE  MAGIC  BELT. 
A  Gebman  Legend. 


**Jf  mutic  be  the  food  of  love^plav  on," 


I. 

In  Dresden  city  lived  an  old  musician. 

Who,  by  hard  squeezing,  had  amassed  some  rhino 
Not  by  tuition,  or  by  composition, 

For  they  don't  pay — professors,  you  and  I  know; 
But  by  receiving  usury  for  his  money, 

Or  shaving  bonds  and  asking  large  percentage. 
Upon  his  strong  box  ever  kept  he  one  eye, 

The  while  the  other  looked  out  for  advantage. 
Steinhausen  was  this  shrewd  old  fellow's  name ; 
He  loved  his  fiddle,  loved  his  cash,  his  fame, 
His  lager  beer,  his  pipe,  his  jovial  friends  : 
Above  all  these,  he  loved  to  gain  his  ends. 

II. 

With  all  his  thrift,  he  was  not  a  curmudgeon, 

But  kept  good  cheer  inside  his  princely  palace, 
Beat  time  to  music  with  an  oaken  bludgeon, 

Or  drank  his  Rhine  wine  from  a  golden  chalice. 
His  will  was  law  with  all  his  guests  and  household, 

For  sycophants  are  rife  when  money's  plenty; 
All  knew  he  sold  his  cash — but  how  sold  ? 

For  they  believed  in  dolce  far  niente. 


THE  MAGIC  BELT, 


227 


Good  wine,  good  music,  make  one  wondrous  wise ; 
None  but  a  fool  would  turn  from  luxuries 
To  ask  the  host  the  means  by  which  he's  able 
To  spread  so  many  good  things  on  his  table. 

III. 

Ho  had  a  daughter— sweet  sixteen,  and  lih^y  ; 

(I  like  that  adjective  as  well  as  syicy) 
Her  name  Cecilia,  some  folks  called  her  Cissy, 

Whose  heart  was  just  the  opposite  of  icy. 
A  score  of  artists  had  essayed  to  paint  her : 

Psha!  talk  about  your  magic  tints  and  brushes  1^ 
The  more  they  mellowed  down  their  tints,  the  fainter 

Was  the  resemblance.    Who  could  limn  her  blushes? 
Enough  to  say— she  was  a  pretty  girl, 
And  kept  close  quarters,  like  an  oyster  pearl. 
She  had  not  learnt  the  heart's  love-lessons  truly  yet, 
But  pined  for  something,  like  Will  Shakspeare's  Juliet. 

IV. 

On  cloudless  nights  she'd  gaze  upon  some  planet; 

Oft  on  the  moon,  when  in  her  fullest  splendor; 
Or  during  day,  read  woods  and  hills  of  granite, 

As  if  they  all  were  of  the  sterner  gender. 
She  sighed,  and  sighed  for  some  congenial  spirit 

Whose  essence  with  her  own  warm  soul  might  mingle; 
She  cared  but  little  whether  it  had  merit. 

If  it  were  warm  and  made  her  young  veins  tingle. 
Something  to  love  was  all  she  asked:  the  wights 
Who  gathered  at  her  father's  board  o'  nights, 
Were  not  the  kind  to  win  a  young  maid's  heart 
Without  the  aid  of  necromantic  art. 

V. 

One  night,  fatigued  with  music  in  the  mlon, 

She  sought  her  couch  and  had  a  pleasant  vision  : 

She  dreamed  she  saw  a  young  man,  like  a  felon, 
Steal  to  her  side  with  firmness  and  decision, 

And  on  her  lips  imprint  a  dozen  kissoH, 

The  while  he  breathed  sweet  words  of  pure  affection, 


228 


THE  MA  GIC  BEL  T. 


Always  so  welcome  to  the  ears  of  misses 

Who  cannot  understand  the  soul's  dejection, 
"Upon  her  heart  his  form  was  photographed, 
Large  draughts  of  love  her  thirsty  spirit  quaffed ; 
And  she  did  vow  she'd  wed  no  other  than 
The  idol  of  her  dreams,  that  handsome  man ! 

VI. 

She  had  no  mother;  but  an  old  duenna, 

With  watchful  eyes,  marked  every  new  emotion ; 
She  was  a  childless  dame,  born  in  Vienna, 

And  for  heart-ailings  always  had  a  lotion. 
When  Cissy  sang,  'twas  aye  the  song  of  passion, 

And  every  note  was  rendered  con  amore, 
Discarding  all  cadenzas,  then  the  fashion. 

And  sighing  every  strain,  II  Trovatore, 
The  good  old  nurse  thought  something  must  be  wrong, 
Alarming  symptoms  showed  themselves  in  song; 
So,  with  a  sigh,  she  hit  on  the  presumption 
That  Cis  was  dying  of  a  slow  consumption. 

VII. 

With  doleful  shake  of  head  the  crone  related 

To  the  old  man  the  danger  she  suspected  ; 
Said  she:  "I  think  the  sweet  girl  should  be  mated 

In  wedlock  to  some  young  man  well  connected.'' 
Steinhausen  heard,  and  for  a  long  while  pondered  : 

How  strange  to  him,  a  marriageable  daughter! 
Who  to  select  from  'mong  his  friends  he  wondered: 

JSTot  one  of  them,  he  thought,  was  fit  to  court  her. 
At  length  he  hit  upon  a  novel  plan 
By  which  he  hoped  to  catch  the  proper  man ; 
He'd  give  a  concert^  licensed  by  the  Mayor. 
And  marry  her  to  the  successful  player. 

VIII. 

Forth  went  the  invitations  and  a  circular : 
A  festival,  the  prize  his  blooming  daughter. 

The  people  stared,  and  thought  the  old  man  jocular 
From  too  much  Schiedam  mingled  with  his  water. 


THE  MAGIC  BELT, 


229 


The  dilettanti  smiled,  the  cognoscente 

Looked  for  a  feast  of  rare  and  classic  music, 
While  noted  artists— Europe  boasted  plenty- 
Practised  their  solos  till  they  made  a  few  sick. 
Poor  Cissy  !  she  so  loving,  yet  so  passive  : 
She  thought  of  hunchbacks,  bald-pates,  noses  massive; 
But  then  again  she  often  thought,  it  seems, 
Of  the  young  thief  who  kissed  her  in  her  dreams. 

IX. 

One  night,  while  seated  in  her  boudoir  window, 

Gazing  upon  the  moon  so  bright  and  pensive, 
She  sang  the  lay  of  some  love-stricken  Lindor; 

But  soon  stopped  short,  for  she  was  apprehensive 
That  some  night-stroller  might  overhear  her  ditty, 

And  take  it  to  himself,  as  men  are  apt  to. 
Particularly  when  the  moonbeams  light  the  city, 

And  gas  is  saved,  while  window-blinds  are  slapped  to. 
Then  suddenly  a  sweet  response  was  heard — 
Soft  strains,  unlike  the  shrill  notes  of  a  bird ; 
They  seemed  to  wing  their  way  up  to  the  moon ; 
Now  low,  now  high,  it  was  a  deep  bassoon  ! 

X. 

She  listens  to  the  strain ;  it  seems  to  dally 

With  the  soft  moonbeams  as  they  kiss  her  tresses. 
Directly  o'er  the  way,  close  by  an  alley. 

Stands  the  bold  stranger,  he  whose  soft  lip  presses 
The  yielding  reed.    He  is  of  noble  figure. 

And  holds  the  instrument  with  graceful  attitude; 
Such  playing,  (no  distorting  face,  or  rigor) 

Was  never  heard  in  that  North  German  latitude. 
The  wild  strain  ceases,  and  the  serenader 
Looks  up,  the  girl  looks  down  ;  his  notes  have  made  her 
Think  of  her  dream,  the  visionary  kisses  : 
The  moon  shines  on  his  face ;  she  screams,  -^Ah,  'tis  his  1" 

XI. 

The  young  man  was  not  slow  to  hear  her  sighing ; 
He  shouldered  his  bassoon,  and  crossed  the  gutter  ; 


230 


THE  MAGIC  BELT, 


Then  to  the  reed  again  his  lips  applying, 

There  came  such  strains  as  sirens  could  not  utter. 

"I  prithee  cease,"  the  maiden  sighed  ;  "  I'm  flurried  ; 
Say,  art  thou  not  the  youth  I  saw  while  dreaming?'* 

*^  I  am,"  said  he,  in  accent  firm,  yet  hurried  : 

She  had  to  bite  her  lips  to  keep  from  screaming. 

How  long  they  talked  the  moon  can  only  tell ; 

Enough  to  say,  before  they  bade  farewell, 

It  was  agreed  that  on  the  following  night 

They'd  have  sweet  converse  in  that  same  moon's  light. 

XII. 

Fritz  Linhard  was  a  student,  fresh  from  college ; 

He'd  learned  enough  to  make  him  dislike  'ologies ; 
In  music  he  was  an  adept  in  knowledge, 

For  his  performance  we  make  no  apologies. 
He'd  read  Steinhausen's  circular,  and  fancied, 
While  o'er  the  document  he  glanced. 
That  he  could  win  the  prize  ;  but  he  was  nervous, 

And,  though  he  knew  his  skill,  he  trembled  : 
Musicians  said:  "From  bashful  men  preserve  us!  " 

While  they  the  soul  of  impudence  resembled. 
He  oft  had  seen  Steinhausen's  lovely  child, 
And  loved  her  with  a  passion  pure  and  wild  ; 
A  hopeless  love — but  then,  if  he  could  win  her! 
He'd  make  the  effort,  though  a  young  beginner. 

XIII. 

They  met,  'twas  in  an  alcove  in  the  garden, 

(Moonlight  and  flowers  make  love-meetings  charm- 

He  told  her  of  his  love,  then  begged  her  pardon, 
She  granted  it,  his  rapture  was  alarming. 

"I'll  try  my  best  to  win  so  rich  a  treasure," 
Said  he,  the  while  he  kissed  her  taper  fingers, 

And  she  cast  down  her  eyes  of  heavenly  azure  : 
Oh,  how  love's  first  word  on  a  man's  lip  lingers ! 

And  how  it  shakes  the  heart-cords  when  it  comes. 

Like  harp-strings  touched  by  fingers  and  by  thumbs. 

The  fair  maid  raised  her  lover  from  her  feet, 

She  never  dreamed  that  loving  was  so  sweet ! 


THE  MAGIC  BELT. 


231 


XIV. 

Cheer  up/'  said  she,  "  there  is  a  good  time  coming, 

My  dream  foreshadowed  what  would  be  the  wind  up  ; 
All  the  world's  scraping,  blowing,  key-board  strumming 

Will  make  no  change  in  me.  I've  made  my  mind  up. 
Am  I,  a  free-born  maiden,  to  be  played  for  ? 

Compelled  to  marry  him  who  is  successful  ? 
I  wonder  what  this  little  heart  was  made  for, 

If  not  for  love?    I'm  sure  I  wish  'twere  less  full." 
Said  Fritz:  ^^I  wonder  1  "—'twas  all  that  he  could  say, 
And  then  he  sighed  as  if  his  soul  would  melt  away. 
Gently  she  told  him  it  was  time  to  sever, 
And  so  he  left,  he  could  not  stay  forever. 

XV. 

Wandering  along  the  lonely  street  dejected, 

And  thinking  of  his  very  slender  chances, 
He  heard  strange  music ;  some  one,  he  suspected, 

Training  himself  in  each  sound's  complex  branches, 
To  win  the  prize.    The  movement  was  ecstatic, 

So  full  of  soul — now  piano,  now  crescendo. 
Then  modulating  through  the  scale  chromatic, 

And  ending  in  a  sweet  diminuendo. 
'Twas  a  bassoon!    The  young  man's  heart  sank  low. 
He  had  a  rival  who  knew  how  to  blow ; 
One  who,  perchance,  would  put  him  in  the  shade, 
And  carry  off  the  honors  and  the  maid. 

XVI. 

He  looked  into  a  basement  window,  wondering 

Who  but  the  devil  could  produce  such  numbers : 
There  he  beheld  a  bassoon  player  thundering 

As  if  he'd  wake  an  earthquake  from  its  slumbers  I 
He  was  an  old  man  with  a  nose  gigantic, 

Grey  beard,  and  eyes  that  seemed  phosphoric ; 
His  preludes  were  unearthly,  wild  and  frantic, 

While  quickly  heaved  his  sides  and  paunch  plethoric. 
"  Ho,  ho!  Fritz  Linhard!  come,  my  boy,  come  in  ! 
Keep  a  stout  heart  and  you  the  girl  will  win. 
Come,  take  a  lesson."    Fritz  thought  best  to  yield: 
For  Cis  he'd  fight  all  Eichmonds  in  the  field. 


232 


THE  MAGIC  BELT. 


XYII. 

The  room  was  rather  small,  say  twelve  by  twenty, 

Dingy  and  lighted  by  a  farthing  candle  ; 
Scattered  around  were  scores  and  loose  sheets  plenty, 

Some  symphonies  by  Mozart,  Spohr  and  Handel. 
An  ancient  spinnet  graced  a  far-off  corner, 

On  it  were  heaped  books  filled  with  theories  only, 
Gregorian  chants ;  a  harp  that  looked  forlorner 

Than  that  which  hung  in  Tara's  halls  so  lonely; 
An  old  worm-eaten  fiddle,  a  Cremona 
It  might  have  been,  one  that  had  lost  its  tone,  or 
From  too  much  scraping  since  its  early  days, 
Had  faded  like  its  present  owner's  bays. 

XYIII. 

*'Now  try  this  prelude,"  said  the  grim  bassoonist, 

Blowing  his  nasal  organ  maestoso; 
^*A  short  allegro,  boy ;  you'll  do  it  soonest. 

Take  my  bassoon,  now  go  it  grandioso." 
Trembling  at  every  joint,  Fritz  met  the  trial; 

Soon  he  warmed  up  and  every  note  confronted : 
That  he  played  well  there  could  be  no  denial, 

For  the  old  man  a  flattering  "  bravo  !  "  grunted. 

That's  good,"  said  he  ;  "  but  you  mast  not  be  nervous  ; 
Take  this  black  belt,  'twill  do  you  much  good  service. 
Backle  it  on — I  see  your  lips  are  risible — 
To  all  the  world  you  will  become  invisible." 

XIX. 

Fritz  took  the  charm,  determining  to  use  it 

Whenever  needed;  then  he  bowed  politely. 
Told  the  nose-king  that  he  would  not  abuse  it. 

Then,  wending  home  with  spirits  gay  and  sprightly, 
He  sought  his  pillow,  dreamed  of  sounds  elysian. 

Of  demi-semiquavers  all  in  meshes  : 
Then  Cissy  figured  largely  in  the  vision, 

With  her  blue  eyes  half  hid  beneath  their  lashes. 
When  morning  dawned  he  found  himself  awake, 
Thinking  of  coffee,  buttered  roll  and  steak  ; 
So  to  the  nearest  restaurant  he  went, 
On  Cissy's  smiles  and  buckwheat  cakes  intent. 


THE  MAGIC  BELT, 


233 


The  great  saloon  of  Herr  Steinhansen's  mansion 

Was  brilliant  with  a  chandelier  well  lighted  ; 
Besides  bright  jets  of  flame  on  hook  and  stancheon. 

And  flowery  wreaths  that  for  worse  smells  requited. 
And  there  were  gathered  from  far  distant  nations, 

Pianists,  flautists,  trumpeters  and  fiddlers; 
A  host  of  men  of  various  avocations, 

Among  them  critics  and  a  score  of  diddlers, 
Mafestros,  capel-meisters,  amateurs, 
From  Leipsic,  Naples,  Amsterdam  and  Tours; 
Besides  fair  ladies  of  the  starched  gentility, 
The  parvenus  mixed  up  with  the  nobility. 

XXI. 

Steinhausen  was  the  judge;  the  jury,  sages 

Grown  grey  while  working  in  harmonious  traces ; 
The  candidates  were  men  of  various  ages, 

Some  with  hunchbacks  and  some  with  monkey  faces. 
The  seats  were  filled ;  the  leader  seized  his  baton, 

And  then  the  overture  was  executed ; 
Such  strains  as  those  a  mummy  might  grow  fat  on 

And  live  again,  settling  a  question  mooted. 
A  flautist  played  a  solo  full  of  graces, 
A  violinist  bowed  and  made  wry  faces ; 
Then  o'er  the  ivory  keys,  with  fingers  glib, 
A  young  pianist  strove  to  win  a  rib. 

XXII. 

Fritz  Linhard  then  stepped  trembling  on  the  platform. 

He  cast  a  hurried  glance  toward  the  maiden ; 
But,  for  a  while,  his  optics  dwelt  on  that  form, 

And  then  he  took  a  fantasie  of  Haydn, 
And  placed  it  on  the  stand  that  stood  before  him. 

A  smile  spread  Cissy's  lips,  he  caught  it, 
And  braced  his  nerves;  but  still  the  fit  crept  o'er  him. 

He  met  the  issue,  and  manfully  he  fought  it. 
Another  look  at  her  he  loved.    Her  eyes 
Seemed  to  express  a  love  that  never  dies; 
He  raised  the  instrument,  and  such  a  strain  I 
A  buzz  went  round  :  "  Eichard^s  himself  again  !  " 


234 


THE  MAGIC  BELT, 


XXIII. 

Now,  like  a  flute  in  alt,  now  down  profondo, 

Eoaring  amid  the  deep  sea's  deepest  sounding, 
The  bassoon  fairly  rattled  a  secundo. 

While  fingers  worked  the  passages  astounding. 
The  building  shook  with  shouts  of  approbation. 

Which  so  alarmed  the  youth  that  he  got  clouded  ; 
He  wavered,  lost  his  place,  each  variation 

Became  a  chaos,  notes  on  notes  were  crowded; 
In  wild  despair  he  left  the  piece  half  done, 
'Twould  have  been  better  had  he  ne'er  begun  ! 
They  jury  scratched  their  heads,  they  named  him  best, 
But  thought  they'd  wait  till  they  had  heard  the  rest. 

XXIV. 

Next  came  a  crooked-back  dwarf ;  and,  on  his  shoulders, 

He  bore  a  contra-bass  twice  his  dimensions ;  , 
His  ghastly  countenance  shocked  all  beholders  ; 

And  raised  in  Cis  the  worst  of  apprehensions. 
He  fixed  his  wig  of  jet-black  hair,  all  tangled, 

Eolled  up  his  sleeves  and  showed  an  arm  of  muscle; 
Then  he  began  as  if  with  imps  he  wrangled, 

And  came  off  first  best  in  the  mighty  tussle. 
A  wailing  largo  full  of  moaning  strains, 
(The  strings  seemed  groaning  under  many  pains) 
Began  the  effort ;  every  note  came  creeping 
Upon  the  air  and  set  all  eyes  to  weeping. 

XXV. 

Then  an  allegro — rather,  a  capricciOy 

All  boisterous  and  not  a  bit  piano ; 
He  seemed  to  be  the  devil's  ex-officio 

Spewed  from  the  bowels  of  a  live  volcano. 
His  brow  flashed  fire,  his  queue  cut  many  capers  ; 

Fritz  groaned,  the  audience  stared,  while  Cissy  won- 
dered, 

And  so  did  all  the  orchestra  of  scrapers. 

While  the  mad  fiend  his  weird  concerto  thundered. 
All,  all  seemed  lost  to  Fritz,  all  save  the  belt : 
He  put  it  on  and  quite  ethereal  felt ; 


THE  MA  GIC  BEL  T. 


235 


He  stepped  upon  the  stage  and  turned  the  pegs 
Of  the  huge  fiddle  ;  pinched  the  player's  legs. 

XXYI. 

Nicolo  Pinto— that  was  the  dwarf's  cognomen- 
Roared  like  a  bull-calf  when  he  heard  the  crashing; 

Still  he  scraped  on,  a  brave,  unflinching  bowman, 
His  goggle  eyes  with  lambent  blazes  flashing. 

The  more  he  worked,  the  greater  discord  made  he, 
The  fiddle  groaned  as  if  it  had  the  colic ; 
Down  !  "  cried  the  audience ;    Stop  !  "  screamed  every 
lady, 

While  Fritz  looked  on  and  gloried  in  the  frolic. 
At  length,  exhausted,  Pinto  ceased  to  scrape, 
Re-tuned  his  basso,  then  began  to  shape 
A  new  conception  ;  but  'twas  all  in  vain, 
For  Fritz  went  up  and  turned  the  pegs  again. 

XXVII. 

Ho,  ho,  Nicolo !  where's  your  guardian  demon  ?  '* 

These  words  came  from  beneath  the  prince  of  noses  ; 
For,  'midst  the  crowd  that  nose  was  seen  to  beam  on, 

Like  the  red  flame  within  the  bush  of  Moses. 

I'll  play  if  all  the  fiends  below  forsake  me ! 

Shrieked  the  grim  hunchback,  pitching  in  with  vigor  ; 
"Who  bids  me  hold?  I'd  like  to  see  him  make  me  !  " 

With  look  defiant  bracing  up  his  figure. 
On,  on  he  played,  the  owlets  screamed  without, 
The  people  wondered  what  he  was  about: 
Days,  weeks,  months  and  years  passed  on,  and  still 
Nicolo  scraped  the  fiddle  with  a  will. 

XXVIII. 

There's  such  a  place  as  Fiddler's  Green  ;  tradition 

Tells  us  that  fiddlers'  souls  go  there  to  practise ; 
^^icolo  died  of  rage,  his  spirit's  mission 

Was  to  that  purgatory,  and,  the  fact  is 
He  played  and  played,  and  on  his  way  went  capering 

To  notes  discordant,  fashioned  by  his  fingers. 
Which,  by  the  way  were  not  as  soft  and  tapering 

As  a  fair  maid's  when  by  her  harp  she  lingers. 


236 


THE  MAGIC  BELT, 


His  ghost  kept  up  the  wild,  chaotic  lay, 
Maybe  it's  playing  it  this  very  day ; 
If  so,  all's  discord  where  the  fiddlers  go, 
And  grizzly  fiends  are  chanting  down  below. 

XXIX. 

Had  Paganini  lived  in  those  days,  may  be 

He  would  have  carried  off  the  prize  instanter ; 
For  Fritz  to  him  was  nothing  but  a  baby, 

Scarce  large  enough  to  fill  a  pint  decanter. 
But,  there  was  no  one  better  than  the  student : 

At  least,  so  thought  the  umpires  in  their  wisdom; 
Fearing  another  dwarf,  they  deemed  it  prudent 

To  compliment  our  friend  and  tell  him  his  doom. 
Just  then  a  stalwart  Scot,  broad-shouldered,  sturdy, 
Stepped  on  the  platform  with  his  hurdy-gurdy, 
Or  rather  bagpipes,  made  for  Highland  ranters, 
And  scared  the  cats  by  tuning  up  his  chanters. 

XXX. 

A  wail  of  woe  fell  softly  on  the  hearing, 

It  was  the  pibroch,  melancholy  doleful  ; 
It  crept  upon  the  heart  like  words  endearing, 

And  every  bosom  seemed  to  store  a  soulfull. 
And  then  "Auld  Eobin  Gray  "  came  humbly  wooing, 

A  ranting  fling  wound  up  the  exhibition. 
But  Fritz  perceived  the  Scot  was  his  undoing, 

He  donned  the  belt  with  sudden  expedition, 
Punched  holes  into  the  wind-sack ;  suddenly 
The  bag  collapsed,  the  lively  melody 
Came  forth  no  more,  although  the  player  puffed, 
His  chance  was  lost,  his  light  of  glory  snuffed  I 

XXXI. 

Thus  triumphing,  Fritz  played  the  grand  finale 
Without  a  single  balk ;  his  shakes  were  over, 

It  was  full  time  to  bid  his  strong  nerves  rally, 
For  he  was  now  to  act  the  part  of  lover. 

Steinhausen,  faithful  to  the  programme,  rose  up, 
Announced  the  victor,  then  led  out  his  daughter; 


HOPE  ON. 


237 


She  did  not  pout,  or  sigh,  or  turn  her  nose  up, 

But  smiled  and  blushed,  just  as  a  maiden  ought  to. 
Fritz  put  his  hand  upon  his  heart  and  bowed  ; 
But  one  in  all  that  fashionable  crowd 
Knew  that  the  lovers  understood  the  cards, 
An  odd  trick  and  the  honors  their  rewards. 

XXXII. 

There  were  gay  times  at  old  Steinhausen^s  dwelling, 

The  bride  and  groom  were  made  one  at  the  altar ; 
Their  light  young  hearts  with  fond  aflrection  swelling, 

Both,  with  good  grace  submitted  to  the  halter. 
Year  followed  year,  the  charmed  belt  was  discarded, 

For  they  had  no  desire  to  be  extinguished  ; 
With  love's  small  fry  their  joys  were  interlarded, 

And,  of  all  worldly  goods,  there  was  no  thing  wished. 
There  is  no  romance  in  our  song's  conclusion, 
For  wedlock  wipes  away  the  heart's  delusion. 
Fritz  reached  a  good  old  age,  had  many  friends, 
And  children  too :  with  this  our  story  ends. 


HOPE  ON. 

I  looked  out  on  the  night,  and  everywhere 

Was  gloom.  The  bleak  wind  sighed  a  sad,  sad  song  j 
The  feathered  snow-flakes  eddied  in  the  air. 

Shrouding  the  cold  earth  as  they  swept  along. 
Anon  weird  forms,  in  garb  of  silvery  white. 
Flitted,  like  phantoms,  through  the  shade  of  night ; 
Moanings  and  gibberings  came  from  their  jaws 
As  they  wrote  "  Death  "  upon  the  poor  men's  doors. 

1  turned  away,  but  not  a  cheering  spark 

Shone  on  my  hearth  ;  the  embers  glowed  no  more  ; 

Amid  the  ashes  sat  an  elfin  dark. 

Chuckling  in  concert  with  the  wild  wind's  roar. 


238 


HOPE  ON, 


His  bony  finger  pointed  to  the  crust 

Upon  my  platter.    From  his  grim  jaws  burst 

A  horrid  laugh,  and  then  he  munched  and  chewed, 

As  if  enjoying  some  delicious  food. 

In  mockery  the  fiend,  with  croaking  voice, 
Sang  a  wild  song  in  praise  of  ruby  wine ; 

Spread  a  broad  table,  decked  with  viands  choice, 
And  asked  me  if  I  would  not  like  to  dine  ? 

"  Who  art  thou,  fiend  ?    What  is  thy  mission  here  ? 

'Tis  surely  not  to  comfort  or  to  cheer. 

If  but  to  mock  misfortune,  get  thee  gone  ! 

Hope  yet  is  mine,  1  still  have  left — a  bone.'* 

"Aha !  thou  dost  not  know  old  Poverty  ?  " 

Shrieked  the  grim  elf.    "  I've  known  thee  many 
year  ; 

How  often  have  I  pinched  and  tortured  thee, 

And  made  thy  pathway  comfortless  and  drear. 
Hope  against  hope.    As  long  as  I  am  free 
To  scatter  blight  on  frail  humanity, 
I'll  be  thy  grim  familiar,  evermore 
Knocking  and  knocking  at  thy  cranny  door. 

Why  should  I  not  ?    The  rich  man  thrusts  me  out ; 

His  ease  and  luxury  are  lofty  walls 
That  guard  him  from  the  wail  when  I'm  about. 

And  keep  me  from  my  usual  daily  calls. 
Hope  on,  for  Hope's  a  sweetly  smiling  dame, 
And  kindles  in  the  heart  a  cheering  flame ; 
But  will  Hope  bring  thee  food  ?    Poor  fool !  hope  on. 
Not  till  thy  death-knell  tolls  will  I  begone." 

Then  melted  in  the  ebon  mist  the  form  ; 

The  raven  croaked ;  high  in  the  leafless  tree 
The  owlet  hooted.    Kiding  on  the  storm. 

With  icy  wings,  sped  Death  and  Misery ! 
The  wind,  with  frozen  sighs,  crept  through  the  door, 
And  sang  the  mournful  song  of  "  evermore  "  ; 
While  the  dim  lamp  with  sudden  brightness  shone, 
And  a  soft  voice  breathed  in  my  ear    Hope  on." 


SECOND  LOVE, 


239 


That  angel  voice  !    Low  kneeling  at  my  side 

A  loved  one  bent;  her  azure  eyes  upturned, 
Her  lips  half  pouting.    'Twas  my  youthful  bride, 
The  well-beloved  for  whom  my  spirit  yearned. 
She  spoke,  and  music  trembled  on  her  lips, 
Like  that  which  wreathed  Cecilia's  finger-tips  : 
"Arouse  thee,  love ;  though  clouds  obscure  the  sun, 
To-morrow  he  will  bless  the  flowers.    Hope  on  I 


SECOND  LOVE. 
To  Alethia. 

1  won  thee  when  the  snows  of  age 

Were  on  my  brow  ; 
When  Time  had  written  on  life's  page 

The  awful    no  w  " 
That  conjures  up  regrets  for  hours 
That  wing  their  way  o'er  honeyed  flowers. 

Like  a  bright  vision  of  the  past. 

Thy  form  came  up, 
And  a  sweet  drop  of  comfort  cast 

Into  my  cup 
Of  bitterness  ;  for  I  was  lone, 
Heartless  and  cold,  like  chiselled  stone. 

The  magic  of  thy  dimpling  smile 

Gave  life  anew  ; 
That  gentle  voice,  that  song,  the  while 

Fell  like  the  dew 
On  the  seared  leaf,  and,  lo !  it  spread, 
A  living  thing  among  the  dead. 


240 


AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  EDGAR  A,  POE. 


The  buried  love  came  up  again 

From  Passion's  tomb  ; 
My  harp-strings  breathed  their  spring-time  strain 

In  winter's  gloom ; 
And  I  did  love  with  all  the  fire, 
The  sweet  excess  of  youth's  desire. 

And  now,  as  round  my  bending  form 

Thy  fair  arms  twine, 
Bravely  I  breast  the  wintry  storm, 

For  thou  art  mine, 
My  angel  in  the  hour  of  strife, 
The  prop  of  my  declining  life. 


AT  THE  GEAVE  OP  EDGAR  A,  POE.* 

In  the  gloaming,  just  as  the  stars  peeped  out, 
And  dreamily  the  cricket  piped  his  lay, 

A  bard  sat  musing.    What  he  thought  about, 

No  one  could  know,  and  therefore  none  could  say. 

There  was  no  quiet,  though  he  quiet  courted ; 

The  car-bells  jingled  and  the  horses  snorted, 

While  ungreased  cart-wheels  rolled  o'er  pavements 
gritty, 

And  newsboys  yelled  — 'twas  in  a  noisy  city. 

The  crimpt  and  dusty  grass  grew  at  his  feet, 

A  solitary  grave  was  by  his  side  — 
The  grave  of  Poe,  close  by  the  busy  street — 

Poe,  the  dead  poet,  now  the  city's  pride. 
Strange  that  while  living  no  one  gave  him  merit, 
Not  e'en  the  raven  in  his  gloomy  garret  ; 
While  Poverty,  with  all  her  haggard  minions, 
Croaked  with  the  raven  as  he  flapped  his  pinions. 


*  These  lines  were  written  before  the  memorial  stone  was  placed  over  the 
remains  of  the  poet. 


CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE, 


241 


(xifted,  yet  poor,  he  struggled  with  the  world, 
Eead  Nature  as  he  would  a  charming  book, 
Formed  elfins  in  night-vapors  as  they  curled, 

And  fashioned  music  from  the  gurgling  brook. 
By  grim  and  restless  phantoms  nightly  haunted, 
By  critics  gored,  by  foul  detraction  taunted. 
He  held  communion  with  his  fancy  only, 
And  wrapped  himself  in  darkness  deep  and  lonely. 

Now  that  the  worms  have  battened  on  his  brain, 

The  world  finds  merit  in  the  song  he  sung  ; 
When  living,  no  one  listened  to  the  strain, 

Or  marked  the  halo  that  around  him  hung. 
Up  with  the  marble  shaft !    He's  not  forgotten  : 
Like  salted  fish,  he  shines  when  he  is  rotten. 
His  name  was  worthless  to  the  bank  fraternity, 
But,  on  the  slab,  it's  good  for  all  eternity. 


CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE. 
To  Alethia. 

Conie  sit  beside  me,  love.    The  winter  winds 
Pipe  their  shrill  songs  around  our  cranny  door; 

The  fleecy  snowflakes  enter  through  the  blinds. 
Floating  awhile,  then  melting  on  the  floor. 

'Tis  a  sad  night  for  many  a  houseless  one  ; 

Be  ye  content,  for  brightly  shines  our  hearth ; 
All  that  the  world's  deceit  could  do,  is  done  ; 

Still  we  are  happy,  though  alone  on  earth. 

Look !  there  are  omens  in  the  glowing  coals. 
And  shadows  of  the  past  flit  on  the  wall;  ' 

Around  us  congregate  immortal  souls, 

Who  from  the  future  tear  the  sombre  pall. 


242 


CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE, 


Sit  close  to  me  and  we  will  read  the  signs 

That  flicker  through  the  darkness  of  the  night, 

For  well  I  know  your  eager  spirit  pines 

To  learn  how  long  will  last  this  withering  blight. 

Within  the  red  glow  of  the  burning  grate 

Sits  a  grim  elf  working  his  bony  jaws  ; 
He  sweeps  the  food  from  off  a  well-filled  plate, 

And,  gorging  it,  clean  licks  his  hairy  paws. 

Dark,  mocking  fiend !  a  bone  we  still  have  left, 
And  there  is  fuel  for  this  stormy  night ; 

Let  the  wind  howl  through  broken  pane  and  cleft,^ 
While  Hope  still  lives  the  sky  looks  clear  and  bright. 

Dimly  the  faggots  burn  where,  groaning,  lies 
The  stricken  widow  on  her  bed  of  straw  ; 

Her  little  ones  the  chill  air  pierce  with  cries, 

In  vain  they've  begged  all  day  from  door  to  door, 

"  Bread !  give  us  bread  !  "  they  cry  :     we  freeze  ; 

The  last  chip  has  burnt  out,  our  feet  are  bare? 
Mother,  do  something  for  poor  Nellie,  please, 

She  cannot  speak,  and,  oh,  how  wild  her  stare !  " 

Grim  Death  hath  knocked  at  that  poor  widow's  door, 
Cold  and  starvation  shroud  the  perished  young ; 

New  names  are  on  the  record  of  the  poor, 
A  new  dirge  for  the  humble  dead  is  sung. 

Cheer  up,  my  gentle  one,  the  sky  will  clear, 

Though  darkly  now  the  clouds  are  hanging  o'er ; 

There  soon  will  come  a  smile  for  every  tear, 

When  Hope,  benignant,  whispers :  "  Weep  no  more  ! 


LIFE. 


243 


LIFE. 

A  child  was  playing  'mid  the  flowers, 

A  merry  little  child  ; 
Wild  bounding  with  triumphant  health, 

How  happily  he  smiled  ! 
His  kite  was  floating  in  the  air ; 

He  let  the  kite-string  go, 
While  he  made  for  a  butterfly 

That  lit  upon  a  sloe. 

His  primer  lay  upon  a  bank ; 

He  hid  it  in  the  grass ; 
That  truant  boy  !  he  always  was^ 

The  tail-piece  of  his  class. 
He  launched  a  boat,  of  paper  made,. 

Upon  the  troubled  stream, 
And  said  it  was  a  ^'  clipper  built," 

And  did  not  go  by  steam. 

That  curly-headed  boy  consumed 

The  golden  hours  of  life, 
And,  now  he's  grown  to  be  a  man,. 

Encumbered  with  a  wife — - 
A  modern  wife — and  children,  too, 

His  wayward  ways  are  ended  : 
He  has  a  broomstick  o'er  his  head^ 

His  socks  are  never  mended. 

Ambition  was  the  kite  he  raised; 

Folly,  the  butterfly ; 
His  primer  was  the  knowledge  lost  ; 

His  boat,  his  destiny. 
The  wrinkles  of  old  age  have  come  ; 

He  bends  'neath  care  and  pain, 
And  thinks  he'd  be  wiser  man 

If  youth  were  his  again. 


244 


THE  PATRIOT'S  APPEAL. 


the  pateiot's  appeal  to  his  disheaet- 

e:n'ed  coujs"tey.men. 

Though  onr  roofs  be  on  fire,  though  our  rivers  run 
blood, 

Though  their  flag's  on  the  hill,  on  the  plain,  on  the 
flood ; 

Though  their  bayonets  bristle^  and  shouts  rend  the  air, 
Paint  heart !  do  not  utter  the  cry  of  despair. 

The  red  moon  looks  down  on  the  field  of  the  slain^ 
The  gaunt  vulture  soars  o'er  the  desolate  plain  ; 
By  the  loved  ones,  that,  mantled  in  glory,'.lie  there, 
Arouse  from  thy  stupor,  and  never  despair. 

We  have  mountains  that  lift  their  grey  peaks  to  the 
skies, 

We  have  rifles  whose  crack  to  the  war-yell  replies  ; 
We  have  sinewy  arms,  we  have  souls  that  will  dare  : 
While  these  are  our  safeguards,  why,  doubter,  despair  ? 

The  great  God  is  just,  and  He  blesses  the  right ; 
He  makes  the  weak  rise,  like  a  giant,  in  might ; 
When  he  strikes  for  his  home  and  the  tender  ones  there, 
There's  hope  in  each  blow,  there's  shame  in  despair. 

Then,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  push  on  with  a  tread 
That  will  shake  the  loose  earth  that  is  heaped  o'er  the 
dead  ; 

Bear  the  torch  and  the  sword  to  the  proud  tyrant's  lair, 
Let  the  wild  battle-cry  drown  the  wail  of  despair. 

Despair !  while  the  old  man  can  flourish  his  staff  ; 
Despair !  while  the  boy  at  the  invader  can  laugh  ; 
Despair  !  while  our  daughters  and  wives  kneel  in  prayer,. 
And  our  mothers  scream  out,     Don't  despair —  don't 
despair !  " 


LITTLE  ROSE. 

Go  preach  to  the  rock  on  the  ocean's  lone  shore, 
And  tell  it  to  battle  the  billows  no  more  : 
While  there's  life  there  is  hope ;  for  the  death- 
prepare  ; 

It  is  glorious  to  battle,  it  is  base  to  despair ! 


LITTLE  EOSE. 

Child  of  the  South,  whose  mild  blue  eyes 

First  saw  the  glorious  sun 
'Midst  howling  shells  that  rent  the  skies, 

And  roar  of  hostile  gun  ; 
Born  amid  strife,  when  old  earth  quaked 

Beneath  the  warriors'  tread. 
And  shouts  that  drooping  spirits  waked 

While  heroes  fought  and  bled. 

Grow  up  and  love  thy  Southern  home. 

Though  sore  oppressed  it  be ; 
Pray  that  a  brighter  day  may  come, 

And  thy  fettered  limbs  be  free. 
Weep  o'er  the  graves  of  those  who  stood 

Stemming  the  hostile  tide. 
Who  made  libation  of  their  blood, 

And,  wrapped  in  glory,  died. 

A  mournful  heritage  is  thine, 

A  baptism  of  tears ; 
An  offering  at  sorrow's  shrine, 

A  chain  of  gloomy  years, 
A  desolated  home  —  a  weight 

Of  galling  chains  to  wear; 
What,  when  I'm  gone,  will  be  thy  fate? 

A  life  of  mute  despair. 
11* 


246 


HEARTS  OF  STEEL. 


HBAETS  OF  STEEL. 
A  Battle-Song. 

Before  us  stands  the  vaunting  foe, 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
With  his  advance  come  grief  and  woe, 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
But  by  the  patriot  heart's  pure  glow 
We'll  strike  his  blood-stained  banner  low, 
And  deal  him  freely  blow  for  blow. 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
Lo !  by  the  light  of  burning  stack 
Reflected  from  the  mountains  black, 
Behold  their  midnight  bivouac. 
Now  let  them  hear  our  rifles'  crack  ; 
Drive,  drive  the  fell  invaders  back, 

Hearts  of  steel ! 

See  havoc's  fiery-steeded  car, 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
Plunging  o'er  wasted  fields  afar. 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
There  all  our  darling  treasures  are  — 
Hear  ye  the  piercing  cry  of  war, 
And  mark  ye  yon  ill-omened  star? 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
Our  homes  are  crumbling  'neath  the  brand, 
There's  gore  upon  the  foeman's  hand ; 
All  desolate  our  teeming  land, 
While  blood  cries  from  the  reeking  sand  — 
Why  like  cold  marble  do  ye  stand  ? 

Hearts  of  steel ! 

Wipe  from  the  sword  its  coat  of  rust, 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
Then  teach  the  blade  the  homeward  thrust, 

Hearts  of  steel  1 


LOUISA'S  GRAVE. 


247 


Trail  not  our  banner  in  the  dust, 
But  as  the  sun's  rays  upward  burst, 
Oh,  let  it  catch  their  glory  first, 

Hearts  of  steel ! 
Yea,  swear  we  by  the  forms  that  lie 
Under  the  sod  of  crimson  dye, 
By  the  bright  tears  in  beauty's  eye, 
By  the  great  God  enthroned  on  high, 
To  drive  the  spoiler  back  —  or  die. 

Hearts  of  steel ! 


LOUISA'S  GRAVE. 

Young  flowers  we  strew  upon  thy  grave, 
O  gentle  sleeper  'neath  the  sod ; 

The  trees  their  bright  green  banners  wave 

Over  thy  couch,  while  dew-drops  lave 
The  flowers  that  speak  of  thee  to  God  — 

Yes,  speak  to  God,  though  nought  they  say^ 

Yet  eloquent  in  tint  are  they. 

Death  loves  a  bright  and  shining  mark  — 
Sweet  friend,  his  shaft  was  aimed  at  thee  ; 

The  barb  struck  surely  home,  and  hark ! 

The  bow-string  twangs,  and  all  is  dark  — 
The  soul  seeks  immortality, 

Winging  its  flight  to  join  the  band 

Of  angels  in  the  better  laud. 

How  my  heart  clings,  dear  friend,  to  thee! 

In  its  great  love  'twas  all  thine  own ; 
So  far  above  mortality, 
I  prayed  that  I,  like  thee,  might  be 

Fit  to  stand  nigh  the  Father's  throno  — 
Fit  to  be  with  the  pure  that  meet 
Around  the  Son  and  kiss  His  feet. 


248 


HOPE  FOR  THE  BEST. 


All  that  is  mortal  must  decay  — 

O  uDclean  flesh,  death  is  thy  doom ; 
But  the  pure  spirit  bounds  away 
To  regions  of  perpetual  day, 

Leaving  corruption  in  the  tomb. 
Eest  calmly  in  thy  narrow  bed. 
All  that  is  left  —  the  soul  has  fled. 


HOPE  FOR  THE  BEST. 

Let  us  hope  for  the  best  while  we've  strength  to  move 
on ; 

It  is  folly  to  pine  if  we  tread  on  a  thorn  ; 
There  are  roses  around  us  to  gather  at  will, 
Eich  in  tint  and  the  odor  they  gently  distill. 

The  dews  that  descend  with  the  moon's  mellow  light 
Are  nothing  but  tears  from  the  eyelids  of  night ; 
So  the  tears  that  we  shed  for  the  joys  that  depart, 
Like  the  dew  to  the  rose  are  the  balm  of  the  heart. 

Let  us  hope  for  the  best.    We  have  love  that  will  last, 
Though  the  sky  of  our  life  be  by  sorrow  o'ercast; 
There  is  joy  in  that  love,  though  it  be  old  in  years. 
And  its  wings  can  not  spread  —  they  are  heavy  with 
tears. 

The  world  is  as  cold  as  those  bright  floating  isles 
That  borrow  the  sunbeams  and  seem  to  wear  smiles; 
Let  us  fashion  a  sweet  little  world  of  our  own, 
In  an  ocean  of  sunlight,  alone,  all  alone. 


THE  CHAMBER  OF  DEATH 


24^ 


THE  CHAMBEE  OF  DEATH. 
To  THE  Mbmoky  of  Estelle. 

Silence,  how  eloquent !  it  speaks  of  death ; 

Still  are  the  leaves,  and  voiceless  midnight's  breath ;. 

The  pensive  moon  wades  through  the  sea  of  blue, 

And  star-lit  flowers  shed  their  tears  of  dew. 

Beloved  one — cold  on  thy  death-couch  laid, 

With  ivory  brow  and  hair  of  jetty  braid, 

Speak  !  let  me  hear  thy  voice's  song  again. 

Mingling  its  notes  with  herald  angel's  strain. 

Gently  thy  spirit  answered  to  the  call, 

Like  the  caged  bird,  when  loosened  from  its  thrall,, 

'Mid  songs  of  bliss,  upward  it  bounding  flies 

To  seek  a  home  of  rest  beyond  the  skies. 

How  beautiful  is  death  !  how  passing  fair ! 

Like  wax  thy  face,  like  silk  thy  ebon  hair. 

The  loves  seem  still  to  cluster  round  thy  lips ; 

Thine  eyes,  once  bright,  are  shrouded  in  eclipse. 

Cold,  cold  the  hand  that  once  returned  my  press  ; 

Mute,  mute  the  lips  that  answered  love's  caress  \ 

The  icy  signet  of  the  ghastly  king 

Is  on  them  now,  and  stills  their  murmuring. 

The  midnight  bell  tolls  out  its  solemn  note, 

Untramelled  spirits  through  the  still  air  float. 

I  vision  thine  in  robes  of  spotless  white, 

Haloed  with  stars  and  folds  of  silvery  light ; 

It  whispers  "  come  "  ;  and  with  angelic  grace 

Soars  proudly  up  through  bright  and  boundless  space,. 

While  strains  unearthly  fill  the  yielding  air  : 

Farewell !  there  is  a  heaven,  and  thou  art  there. 


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